


Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again

by the-eagle-of-masyaf (Dunkelherz)



Series: Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Dark, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Execution, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Modern Era, Modern Setting, Original Character(s), PTSD, Reincarnation, Romance, Sexual Content, Sorrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 66,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunkelherz/pseuds/the-eagle-of-masyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Fill for the Kink Meme] “I think you don't understand Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad”, and he was a little impressed that she could pronounce his name without flaw. “We're not the bad guys here.”</p><p>“It seems we both have very different definitions of 'bad'."</p><p>“Have you always wondered why you've these strange dreams? Did it ever feel to you as if you don't belong anywhere? That nothing is true?”, Lucy called after him. Altair slowly turned around. "We can help you find your answers", and for a moment he thought it was true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeison/gifts).



> A/N: This is the fill for a prompt on the dreamwidth kink meme. It went like this:
> 
> "So with The Secret Crusade taken into account, Altair and Malik are reincarnated into the 21st century with the same names, same appearance and personality, but they don't know each other. All throughout their lives they've had little hints, the occasional weird dream, and déjà vu about their past life as Assassins, though it never really bothers them until one day when they run into each other on the streets or at a café or whatever, and get hit with an unexplainable feeling of recognition (and what they think is shallow attraction). Cue confusion, being scarily familiar with each other, and the both of them trying to piece together some kind of closure from their 12th century memories – since Malik never got to find out what happened to the Order and Masyaf, and Altair had to live with the guilt of leaving Malik to die."
> 
> I took it a little further than that...

Altair fell.

Wind was ripping at his clothes as he rushed towards earth and for a moment he thought he wouldn't make it, _couldn't_ make – it was impossible for a man to survive such a fall and the cold grip of fear closed around his heart, crushing it in a merciless tight fist and it was hard to suck the air in, to breath as panic crawled slowly across his soul like a spider. He closed his eyes, preparing for the impact to come but it never did, his fall never stopped and maybe, that was the worst feeling.

He woke with a silent scream on his lips. The bedsheets were tangled around his legs, sweat clinging to his skin like the memory of the spider climbing up his spine. Altair sat up, breathing heavily and running his fingers through his sweat-soaked her, his heart beating wildly.

Shit.

It happened more often now. These dreams in which he fell towards earth with the scream of an eagle tearing through the sky and seconds before he would hit the ground he'd wake up, confused and afraid. He always thought he would die but the impact never came as he always woke up before his body would be crushed. He hated nights like these, absolutely hated them. He could hardly find sleep again once he was up, so Altair swung his legs over the bed's edge and sat up, elbows resting on his knees and he rubbed his face with both his hands, swallowing heavily. He glanced at the small digital clock on his nightstand. The big red numbers told him it was just shortly after 4 am. Great... one more hour and he would have to get up anyway.

Altair straightened his back, his head rolling to one side to the other and his bones popped back into place with a loud crack while he stood up, heading for his bathroom first to take a piss and then walking towards the kitchen. He pulled out a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with water, gulping everything down in one go. He gripped the counter's edges and his head hung low between his shoulders as the moon's light fell in silver waves through his window, creating large shadows crawling across the walls.

The dreams had gotten worse.

They came more often.

They felt more real.

This time he could actually feel the wind, could smell the desert and feel the sun's heat on his skin, taste the dirt... He shuddered, goosebumps spreading down his arms and spine and he pushed himself off the counter, sighing deeply once more. At least it was _this_ dream and not... one of the other ones as he felt even worse after waking up from them, feeling guilty and ashamed, sometimes dirty too.

He made up his mind then and grabbed everything to get his coffeemaker to work and once the water run through the filter he went for a shower. The cold water helped him to sort his thoughts, to bring him back into reality as he could still hear the eagle's cry echoing inside his head. It hasn't been always like that, well, at least the dreams haven't. They had changed over the years and when Altair got older. When he was a child he had nightmares. Terrible nightmares, large shadows growing in front of him, men without faces staring down on him, blood covering the ground to his feet and a sword cutting through the air, the sound as something was hit, something wet, the cracking of bones and then the sound of a body hitting the ground accompanied by the feeling of pure horror as if his world had ended, as if he just lost something very important, very dear to him and sometimes, he could hear someone screaming, someone sounding very young like a small boy. There were good ones too even though only a few. Dreams in which he lay in a field staring up the sky and watching the clouds pass by. But the older he got the more violent his dreams became. He actually went to see a shrink about it but they couldn't help. Nothing could help. He had tried sleeping pills, hoping they would take away the dreams but that didn't work either. Maybe he just had to live with them.

He got dressed after he had his first cup of coffee and watched himself in the large mirror which was hanging on his bedroom door, turning this way and that way to make sure he could leave the house presentable. He pulled a face as he got close in front of the smooth glass, his fingers touching the skin underneath his eyes. Maybe he should get one of those... makeup roller sticks. The ones for women with caffeine in them to get rid of dark circles. He stuck out his tongue at his reflection – nah, he wasn't that vain. Maybe a little as he thought they made him look older than he actually was. He closed the door behind him with a small 'click' as he went outside, way too early and he'd arrive an hour early for work but going back to sleep hadn't been an option either.

He was sitting in the train when he dozed off again, his cheek resting on his hand and no, he wasn't drooling it just looked like it. He was dreaming and his leg twitched as he was pulled right back into this other life he seemed to undergo.

xxx

Malik arrived at work an hour late – which was very unusual for him as he didn't hate anything more than being late and as he watched the knowing grins of his co-workers he knew they would never let him forget that he, Malik al-Sayf, was _late_ for work. It wasn't his fault though, no, not really and right now he tried to convince himself that maybe he had been still asleep when his alarm had been going off. That's the only reason why what'd happened, well, actually happened. He couldn't have figure out how to turn it off. He just couldn't. He had stared at his phone, his alarm hooting loudly and for the longest time. After a while he had just given up and put his phone underneath his pillow, then put his blanket on top of it because it was still loud as fuck, then went out of the room only to walk into the living room and staring at the TV as if he'd never seen one before. It was strange, really but most of all terrifying. This was just something that didn't happen. You just did not forget how to turn off the alarm on your phone. You just did not forget what a TV was. You just didn't and yet it happened to Malik this morning. He probably just had been still half-asleep. Maybe even sleepwalking if that was possible? But he wasn't going insane. This wasn't dementia starting, please.

Yet he sat down at his desk turning on his computer and waiting for it to run before he opened his browser and started searching for symptoms of dementia.

Disorientation?

No, not at all.

Impaired speech?

No again.

Personality changes?

Nope.

Forgetfulness?

Yeah, shit kind of. It had started a few months ago. He sometimes... just kind of woke up at a place where he couldn't remember how he got there or what the hell he wanted there. The strangest place he ever woke to had been on top of a skyscraper.

All the other symptoms didn't match and he didn't know if he should feel relieved or not. He decided for being still worried and considered seeing a doctor later the day. But first... work.

His day was going slow as Malik couldn't really focus on his work. He was a graphic designer and they just got his _huge_ commission for this pharmaceutical company – Absterg or something... Abstergo, yes that was the name of it and he was currently working on their logo. He didn't like any of his drafts so far and he only got until the end of the week then he had to come up with something he could present. He threw his what felt like the millionth sketch that day into the bin and leaned back heavily in his chair, folding his arms behind his head and looking up the ceiling, rubbing his face then. This was just no use and he still couldn't forget about the incident this morning.

Maybe it was something neurological. Brain tumor? God no, he wouldn't google the symptoms for that. There was one thing you really had to know about Malik: he was a damn wuss when it came to his health. One might actually dare to say he suffered from a mild anxiety disorder, but those who knew Malik's background would understand as he'd seen and experienced things most people did not in a whole lifetime and he was only 27.

This was not the moment to think about it and he leaned forwards, his elbows resting on top of his desk, chin propped in his palms - at least he could say 'palms' as in plural.

So when he looked at his clock and it finally showed 5 pm he was more than relieved that he could go home. Most of his colleagues hadn't bother him, they knew better than to talk with him when he was 'in a mood' as they liked to call it. He wasn't really a people person, never had been. Even though he'd been living in this country for more than twenty years he'd never really felt _at home._ This wasn't home, he felt more like a guest but going back to his country, to his homeland wasn't an option either. Not since the war had started there a year ago. He didn't have a home, not really. More than often he just felt like a nomad. He didn't really _belong_ here but he doubted it had something to do with him fleeing his country back in 1987 when he'd only been an infant... sometimes it felt more like as if this... wasn't his time. It was difficult to explain and he had never told anybody about it as they wouldn't understand. Hell, even _he_ didn't understand so how could he explain it to somebody else?

Today just wasn't his day and as he was riding the train home, he wanted to close his eyes to pretend all the other people weren't there. It didn't work though as he felt like a sardine in a can, smelling the sweat of all the other people, hearing them coughing, sniffling and all. The next stop came and a lot of people got off and there was finally an empty seat he could take, slumping down heavily on it and leaning his head back against the fogged glass. Malik took deep breaths, glad that it wouldn't take much longer until his station came. But the easing of tension didn't come. It felt like as if somebody was watching him and when he cracked one eye open he could see him, sitting there a few seats away watching him with the most strange eyes he'd ever seen. A bright amber flashing at him from beneath the shadows of his hood covering his head.

Those eyes felt awfully familiar and sent a shiver up his spine and Malik felt cold. Just what the hell was he staring at? Probably just some weirdo. Nothing unusual happening when he was riding the train. Most people stared at him especially after 9/11 – at least they didn't insulted him anymore. It had gotten better ever since there was a black guy sitting in the White House.

Malik opened both his eyes, turning his head to meet his gaze fully and when he did, the man jerked as if Malik had caught him, which he kind of did, quickly turning his head and staring out into the darkness and the colorful lights flashing by as the train moved through the night. That was better – look the other way boy because Malik was in no mood for some stranger eye-fucking him. He got off the next station, watching Malik from the corner of his eye and his skin prickled as he tried to pretend that this stranger was _not_ staring at him. He sighed though once he was gone, angry at himself for getting worked up over a weirdo. The cabin was almost empty now and Malik could finally relax, dozing until he had to get up.

When he turned the keys in the lock, walking into his dark apartment he felt more lost than ever, going to the fridge and pulling out a water bottle, slumping down on his couch and turning on the TV – at least he didn't forget how that worked this time. Malik didn't really watch, just stared off into empty space, not listening and bothering with the pictures flickering across the screen and illuminating him in a soft blue glow. He didn't eat that evening. He didn't go to see a doctor either.


	2. Chapter 2

Altair came home late which wasn't unusual. He was an employee for a small security company where he would have to work early in the morning, collection the money from various stores to bring it to the bank and he had a second job where he went to three times a week, working in the evening at a small club as a security as well, basically telling people that no, they won't get in here wearing these shoes and yes, you can pass. Today was one of those days where he came home in the middle of the night and with only a few hours of sleep ahead. But this was the only way for him to save enough money to go back to school next spring.

He sighed heavily as he dragged himself into his living room, sinking clumsily onto his coach and rolling his shoulders, his tired muscles aching and he rubbed his eyes with one hand before getting up again, walking to his fridge to get out some beer. It wasn't like that he drank often, he hardly did. To be honest it had been just a few years ago that he had alcohol for the first time as he was Muslim or rather... used to be. His believes had changed like so many other things and now here he was, sitting in his dark apartment with an unopened can of beer in his hand and he put it back on the table just a second later.

He'd had another dream on his way to work and he still tried to forget the images. He remembered some words shouted at him, thick with a French accent and yet he understood everything. He remembered the cold feeling of fear and wild hot rage battling with each other and in the end there was nothing left but lonely remorse. The rest of the day hadn't been much better and the evening was even worse. He couldn't forget the man's face he saw on the train as he was heading for his second job as he usually arrived one to two hours early before the club would open. That man seemed familiar and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he knew him, somehow. Something like that had never happened before and he would have thought it only existed in a poorly written novel but never actually happen to himself in real life. He was still thinking back to that face not able to forget it although something seemed to be off and not right about the picture. The man seemed familiar, yes, but there wasn't something right and Altair couldn't put his finger on it. He shrugged with his shoulders, grabbing the can and opening it with a loud 'plop', taking the first sip. His face turned into a small grimace. Yep, he still didn't like beer no matter how often he tried it, but he always ended up buying some every so often because maybe he will like it _this time_.

There was a small red light flashing to his right and it was then that his attention was caught by his answering machine. Three new messages. He groaned and leaned to his side, reaching for the small button and pushing. The short beep came and the message started.

" _Hello Mr. Iben-Laad this is Tracy from Abst-"_ She still couldn't pronounce his name. She sounded so annoying, this bright cheerful voice and he imagined her smiling every time she called him. She probably would still be smiling if he stood in front of her telling her to fuck off and leave him alone, probably wishing him a good day too.

He practically punched the button to switch to the next message. The digital number flipped and the second message went on.

" _It's Tracy and I'm calling fro-"_

Fuck no – skip to the next and last one.

" _Please give us a call back as soon as possible, it's Tracy ag-"_

For a moment Altair just thought about throwing the machine out of his window. This has been going on for a few weeks now and he still had no idea why a pharmaceutical company was interested in him, offering him a job. He told them multiple times that no, he didn't want to work for them even though the money was good but after one time, where he talked on the phone with this one guy something at the back of his mind told him that it was better to reject their offer even though it'd pay more than what he currently got with his two jobs. Some things just weren't worth it and after he'd done some research, finding a homepage only a few months old and no other entries at all on google he thought he was better off without them. That didn't stop them from calling him though and now he got their messages every other day trying to convince him to come by for a job interview.

No thank you and he pushed the button to delete all three messages.

His muscles and body felt stiff and he groaned in pain when he turned his head to one side, his neck hurting. He got up again and walked towards the small DVD shelf where he crouched down and pulled out a pile of movies only to reach behind them, pulling out just a single one. He sat back on the couch once he had turned on the TV, put in the movie and leaned back staring mindlessly at the screen. He turned the volume down to a minimum, only watching halfheartedly. He pressed forward to get to the parts he was interested in but even as he watched the guy sucking on the other man's cock it didn't do the trick. He just couldn't stop thinking.

Soft moans filled the room, not his own but those coming from the actors, sounding all faked and badly acted. It didn't stop him from closing his eyes and opening his belt with one hand, popping one button open and groping himself through his jeans. A second later an image flashed up in his mind and sharp pain followed soon, making it feel as if someone had just hit him with a hammer across the back of his head.

Eyes. A pair of staring eyes, betrayal, hurt and sorrow written starkly across them.

Nothing more. Just a pair of eyes but it was enough to make him gasp, his hand coming up to hold his had as the pain only slowly faded and traveling through one side of his body. Just what the fuck happened? Altair held up his hand in front of him, spreading his fingers and counting them. He then smiled even though it was empty and hollow but nope... not a stroke. Everything was functioning as it should be. Then why was his mind playing tricks with him? Those eyes he remembered as they had watched him tonight in the train. The same eyes as the man's he hadn't been able to take his sight off.

The sound of deep, husky moans followed the noise of skin slapping skin and as he looked up, watching the guy's dick disappearing into the other man's body. Just another reason why he couldn't follow his faith anymore. Right. He was gay and it had only been just a year ago that he could finally admit to it. He knew homosexuality wasn't anything to be ashamed of and he would encourage any gay man or woman to come out of the closet but himself? That had been almost an impossible task. He could accept homosexuality when it concerned others but not when it came to himself and it had almost killed him, painful and slowly from the inside, eating away at his mind and soul until there was almost nothing left of him, leaving him as an empty shell. It had somehow changed him, turning him from being a bright boy into an arrogant, aloof acting bastard – all because he couldn't accept himself. Now it was different though... he could accept the fact being gay and he could live out his own sexuality – behind the curtains of his apartment where nobody could see him, where it was just him and his lone, pitiful single DVD of gay porn. So yes, he still had a long way ahead of him – one path he had to take was to learn how to download some porn instead of buying it in a shop. No way he would ever enter one of those ever again.

He turned down the volume of his TV completely and just let the images run across the screen, not paying too much attention. He made himself comfortable on his couch laying with face turned away from the TV and one hand tugged underneath his chin. He was tired, very tired and sometimes it felt as if he'd lived a thousand years not able to get some rest. Rest... restless. He often felt restless as if something was chasing him, as if somebody had attached strings to his limbs, pulling every now and then and keeping him at place, not allowing him to move into one direction or the other. Sometimes he felt played by an invisible puppet master, letting him dance whenever it was desired. It wasn't his life – it was just as simple as that. This wasn't _his_ life. This, all of this felt wrong and no matter how hard he tried to find his way it always seemed as if he chose the wrong path. His attempt to gather enough money to going to school again, it was his last one to find his true self. There were just so many things he was interested in. History, maybe. That sounded good. Maybe something he wouldn't get bored soon with as it often happened with other things. One reason why he hadn't been able to finish school when he was younger. It simply bored him and he couldn't find the sense of going there anyway. Sometimes it just seemed as if nothing was true. But if nothing was true then what should he live for?

He fell asleep before he knew it but this time it was just empty space he was walking through, white engulfing him as he moved through thick fog but no matter which way he chose he didn't find anything there and it left him no choice but to keep on searching. If he only knew what he was looking for.

xxx

Malik couldn't get rid of the image of those bright amber eyes hunting him. He was turning around once more in his bed as he tried to fall asleep but sleep wouldn't come tonight. So he got up again, wearing nothing but his boxers and he stopped in front of his window. He was living at the twenty fourth floor and the view he got from up there was amazing as he could look over the whole city, watching all the flashing, colorful lights, planes landing and cars moving through the streets like a thousand little ants. He leaned heavily against the window's frame, watching the life splayed across in front of him a few minutes longer. He could still remember broken fragments of his childhood, could still remember just how different life was there compared to this. People living in destroyed houses, bullet holes decorating facades if there still were any. No running water, no electricity most of the times and his mother cooking with gas. It were only a few, small images he could remember and maybe some of them weren't true and he just made them up but... even if they weren't real he still wanted to hold onto them as they were the best memories he had of his parents.

He pulled a bit back and he could see his reflection on the smooth surface of the glass. Sometimes he didn't recognize himself and his fingers moved across his chin. Maybe he should let grow a small goatee there. It certainly felt right and he knew it would probably look good at him. His eyes fell back on his left arm. A arm that shouldn't be there and the doctors had told him multiple times how lucky he was that they had been able to save it. When his gaze went towards the city lights again he reached for his cheek as he watched a lonely tear rolling across it. His fingers came back dry and he noticed that it had started raining, water drops rolling down the window and his reflection. It would have surprised him anyway.

xxx

"We found him six weeks ago. Why isn't he still here?" He turned around facing her, his hands crossed behind his back, her smaller frame reflecting in his glasses.

"I think the whole procedure will go more smoothly if he comes here by his own free will. I don't have a good feeling if we have to sedate him and just force him into the machine." She spoke quickly but even though she tried hard not to show how nervous she was in front of him, she couldn't keep her voice from trembling.

"I hardly care about your feelings. I don't care about _his_ feelings either. I want him here, I want him in that machine and I want it _now_. Go get a squad and let them bring him here."

"But if we force him we might risk losing him and-"

"We won't lose him", he smiled but it didn't look friendly at all and there was a predatory look in his eyes. "If he's really who we think he is he will survive the procedure."

"But what if-"

"No, no more of this." He held up one finger and pointed at her, his lips pressed to a thin white line. "You're here by your own free will. That doesn't mean I can't remove you from this project. There are no other options. You either get him here by the end of the week or I get somebody else to fill your position."

"No Sir, that won't be necessary", she swallowed thickly.

"I see we understand each other Ms. Stillman. Go get back to work."

"Yes Sir." She turned around as she wanted to leave before she stopped. She hadn't dared to bring up the subject earlier. "There's another thing though..." He looked again at her, his eyebrows rising with curiosity. "Oh?"

"We might have found another one..."

He smiled again and she thought she had never seen anybody looking so terrifying like him at the moment. "Is that so? Same era?"

"Same year actually", she swallowed again and held on to that little notebook in her arms.

"Really?" He licked over his lips and she got sick by the sight. "Someone he knows?"

"Someone he was with at Solomon's Temple."

His eyes narrowed and now she knew how a predator looked like before he killed his prey.

"Perfect."


	3. Chapter 3

It was Wednesday and Altair hated Wednesday. The middle of the week with still two more days to go until it was weekend and since he had worked late yesterday he was tired as hell and could barely keep his eyes open when he drove the van, heading for JC Penny's.

"You look like shit dude."

He glanced sideways at Toto.

Toto wasn't his real name and Altair couldn't actually remember his real one anymore as he had introduced himself as Toto when he'd started working for the company and everybody else was calling him like that. He always wondered why he got that name. He didn't look like Totoro at all since he assumed that Toto maybe was the short version for that. He wasn't chubby and he didn't have an umbrella with him all the time and he never talked about any Studio Ghibli movies so he doubted he was a fan of them. Toto was an animal of a man with broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms and hair cut so short that it almost looked like as if he was bald. His uniform always looked like as if it was way too small for him and sometimes Altair thought the fabric would tear any second, especially when he bend down to pick something up. Toto was simple and not really a bright man but he was one of the few Altair could tolerate as he didn't talk much and mostly minded his own business. Not today as it seemed.

"Yeah? Look at yourself in the mirror then", he told him without offering him another glance. Toto just laughed.

"No man, I mean really... You don't sleep well lately?"

He usually didn't make his tours with Toto so it wasn't really surprisingly that he asked him something like that. Usually he worked with James, a tiny man, used to Altair's dark circles underneath his eyes and the complete opposite of Toto – at least when it came to appearance. James wore glasses, was even smaller than Altair and looked like as if he would snap like a match if somebody pushed him too hard. Not like someone you would expect working for security and driving money transporters. Today James had called in sick and Altair had switched his route, making him end up with Toto.

Altair scoffed. "Something like that", he shrugged and hoped the matter would be dismissed as he pulled into the parking lot driving towards the back of the store where they had their vault and with the staff already waiting for them to pick up the earnings from the day before, all counted and neatly packed. "Maybe we should get you some coffee then", Toto suggested and looking out of the window.

It was raining as it had been all morning, the sky covered by thick heavy clouds which would almost touch the ground. It made Altair feel claustrophobic, he stopped the van and put the gear into parking, Toto already opened the door before he held in for a second. "I'll go get the money. You'll stand by the door", he told him and he nodded, wondering why Toto would tell him that when they always did it like this. The driver was guarding the door – company policy. He got out of the van as well, one hand on the gun he wore on his hip. He didn't like guns and it was probably the only thing he hated about this job. Of course he knew how to shoot and he knew how to defend himself even without weapons but he hoped he would never have to use it.

Toto went ahead and Altair strolled lazily behind him, greeting the security of JC Penny who opened the door for Toto to enter the back of the store, a young woman leading him to the vault where they had their money. He leaned against the wall, his eyes roaming his surroundings, looking for anything that seemed odd. Something odd could be a nearby parked car with a running engine, but it was so early in the morning that there weren't many cars in the parking lot and since it was raining there were only a few pedestrians on the streets. He didn't talk with JC's security man. He didn't believe in small talk and he didn't know why he should bother with it. He could hear Toto laughing from the inside, followed by the soft chuckle of the woman. Toto's laughter sounded like the barking of a dog though and Altair assumed he'd just made some joke, flirting with the young retailer before he heard another door opening and closing shortly after - so this could take a while.

To his surprise it took Toto only fifteen minutes and he came outside with the locked, heavy box in his arms, his face a bit red and sweaty and Altair accompanied him back to the van, opening the back doors and waiting for Toto to store the money.

As they closed the doors once again and sat back in the van, Altair starting the engine, Toto clapped his back. "Come on... we're ahead of our schedule. We can afford taking a break and getting you some coffee."

Altair glanced at the clock on the dashboard. They weren't ahead of their schedule. In fact they were a little behind and he just wanted to open his mouth to tell Toto so, but... aw, fuck it.

"Alright", he nodded. "Let's get some coffee."

There was a Starbucks just down the street but Altair was making a U-turn and heading the opposite direction. He didn't like Starbucks. The coffee didn't taste any different from any other small coffee shop, it probably tasted worse. Their products just had fancy names and were overpriced anyway. Besides, if he wanted a large coffee he wanted a _large_ coffee not _grande_ or _venti_. So he decided to take them to one of his favorite places, a small shop next to the main street and run by an old man who came from Turkey to the US more than three decades ago. Altair loved his coffee and he loved sitting in there, sipping his secret addiction and watching the people passing by the windows.

They had just ordered and found their places when Toto excused himself to take a leak, as he liked to say it. Altair waved him off, taking off his raincoat and waiting for his coffee to be ready [a large one, thank you very much] and looking out the window as they had found a table right next to it. The place was empty besides the two of them as it was mostly and he sometimes wondered how the old man -Cem- could survive and pay for the rent and everything with the little frequency. The door to the shop opened again and he could hear the jingling of bells but didn't pay it much attention.

"One mocha, to go please."

Altair completely froze and a chill run down his spine, a lump of ice building inside his lower stomach and the cold spread through the rest of his body. He turned his head first, trying to look over his shoulder back at the counter but didn't manage to catch a glimpse so he turned fully. That voice – he knew that voice and before he could even see him, he knew who it belonged to as he suddenly saw those eyes swimming back into his vision and when he finally looked at him it all became clear. He remembered his voice and for a few long moments he didn't know why but then it came back to him and hit him like a brick across the head.

It was him again, the man from the train, the man he could barely stop thinking about and he leaned back into his chair, pushing himself away from the table, the chair's legs scrapping across the ground and making a loud noise causing the man to turn towards Altair. Their eyes met but this time Altair didn't flinch, didn't yield and held his gaze.

Altair stood up to suddenly that he almost knocked over the chair, his fingers grabbing the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. For a moment confusion flashed across the man's face and he tilted his head to one side, looking Altair up and down before an amused little grin spread across his lips for a split second.

Right. His uniform. It was an ugly gray and he often thought he looked more like a janitor who was allowed to carry guns than a security man driving money transporters. He turned back towards the counter as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened but Altair could see how he hunched his shoulders, how he went tense. The fingers of his left hand closed and opened rhythmically. For some reason he thought it looked odd as if he could remember him only having one arm.

"This is the second time I run into you", he heard him saying and his voice caused goosebumps spreading across his skin like a rash and each letter rolling over his tongue sounded like a long faded memory, all drained out of its colors leaving nothing but black and white. It left him feeling dizzy. There was the hint of mocking within his voice and he could imagine the little frown on his face. "Do we know each other?", Altair asked then and he let slowly go of the table, not thinking he needed its support any longer. He stood straight then and picked up the small hat he had to wear during work and which had been laying on the table next to him just a few seconds ago. He held it in front of his body, his fingers twisting the elastic material.

"I don't think so", he told Altair, sounding bored and he glanced back at him over his shoulder. "What is this? Am I getting stalked by you now?", he pondered, his voice sharp and Altair could tell he was just at the edge of snapping. Altair scoffed. "Right", and he rolled his eyes.

His mocha was done and he paid for it, placing a cap on top of the styrofoam cup. He made his turn to leave but Altair just couldn't let him go like that. "Well?", he asked as he couldn't think of anything better. All those other thoughts whirling inside his head like a mad vortex sounded too crazy anyway.

 _I saw you and I can't forget your eyes – give me your number?_ Tch, no way in hell.

 _I think there's obviously some chemistry between us. Can I have your number?_ No, worse than the one before.

"Maybe fate has some plans for you and me."

Altair had absolutely no idea why he said it. It sounded like the dumbest thing ever, something he only heard people saying on TV in a bad late-night movie. It did made him stop though, halting within his tracks just before he reached the door. "Fate?" He sounded smug. "I don't believe in fate." His hand reached for the door, pulling it open and the loud sound of rain splashing down on earth filled Altair's ears. "You know, after all... nothing is true", he made a small rotating motion with his hand over his shoulder and with that he stepped outside, the door falling shut behind him, the bells jingling.

Altair stared on the spot he was standing just seconds before long after he was gone and was trembling, his whole frame shaking.

_Nothing is true._

_Everything is permitted._

Everything. Is. Permitted. The words echoed inside his head, sounding old and wrinkled and he thought he could remember a face, an old man with a bad eye and a long white beard, clapping him on his shoulder and for a moment he was filled with pride though he had no idea why. His legs came into motion before he realized it and he pulled the door open, stepping outside onto the sidewalk, the rain pouring fiercely down on him and soaking him to the bones. He looked down one side of the street than the other but he was gone, all he could see was gray in gray.

"Altair?" He heard the jingle of bells again, Toto standing in the door behind him seeking shelter from the rain. Somewhere he could hear the sound of sirens of police cars. "Everything alright?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah... everything alright", he lied.

xxx

That was it then. No more coffee from that place and Malik really liked it! The mocha tasted good for a change as Cem actually knew how to make it.

He was cold all over and soaked thoroughly when he stopped in front of the small apartment complex. He still got an hour before he'd have to start work so there was nothing against visiting an old friend. Besides, he hadn't seen her for far too long and lately, he felt the need to see somebody familiar.

He cringed. That guy in the coffee shop looked familiar. Well, of course since he'd seen him just the other day on the train. But that was not it, that wasn't all of the story. It really was a story, wasn't it? It felt like as if they shared one and yet, he couldn't really name the tale but he knew it was there, hiding in the dark waiting for Malik to find it. He shook his head. Not now. It was still too early in the morning for him to set his wit's to work and he pushed the doorbell and waiting to get buzzed in.

Two sets of stairs later, a turn and a short walk along a barely lit corridor he stopped in front of a dark green painted door with a peephole in the middle of it, staring back at Malik. To his left a door opened and he glanced sideways, watching a man stepping outside with a bag of garbage in his hand. He thought it looked odd since he wore brightly polished black shoes and they looked a bit too expensive as if someone living in this neighborhood could afford a pair like that. Marta opened up and the wrinkled face smiled at him, her eyes shinning with warmth. "Come on in boy. You look like you need to warm up. Is it still raining out there?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not at Marta, never at her. He just shook his head and stepped into her small apartment, waiting for her to follow him into the small kitchen and sitting down at the table. Once she took a seat next to him he pulled off his coat, hanging it over the chair's back and placing the empty cup of mocha in front of him.

"You want something? I made some baklava the other day."

Baklava – how long has it been that he had some of that? Too long, that was for sure as he couldn't remember. "That would be great, thank you", he nodded and Marta got up again, shifting in her small kitchen and pulling old cabinets open, placing two plates in front of them onto the table and opening her oven taking out a baking sheet. She'd already cut it into small pieces and used her fingers to serve two of them on his plate, then on hers before she put the sheet back. "Coffee?" He shook his head and Marta sat back down again.

He picked up one piece of the pastry and bit into it, the flavor of pistachios invading his senses and it was sweet, oh so very sweet and he wished he still had some of his mocha left but it was good. Not as good as his mother used to make it but Marta had practiced over the years and improved her skills. She looked at him with big round eyes, waiting for him to say something. He nodded and licked his fingers. "'s good", he told her and Marta's lips broke into one of the biggest smiles he'd ever seen and she bit into her own, chewing slowly and swallowing eventually.

There was a children's home right down the street and only a few minutes away from Marta's house. It wasn't the best neighborhood but it could be worse. When Malik had been a child he often came visiting Marta since it was only a short walk and she always welcomed him with open arms. Over the years she had become something close to a mother for him and even now as he had long left the home moving into his own apartment he still came every other month visiting the old woman and catching up with her.

He didn't visit the children's home.

Lately though he could see a change when he came over to her place, usually before he had to go to work as he was too tired when he got off. Marta seemed worn out and her small apartment didn't look as tidy anymore as it used to be. Even now there were dirty plates piling up in the sink, the floor stained and on the small windowsill stood a vase with a bouquet in, one he got her last month and the flowers had died a long time ago.

"How are things?", he asked her in a small voice, the baklava on his plate forgotten but she just smiled at him, blinking a few times. "I missed my favorite little boy, that's all", she told him even though her voice sounded pressed and thick. She waved at him. "You know, lately I often think back when you've been younger. When you and Kadar came visiting me with dirty feet since you both didn't like to wear shoes during summer..." She cut herself off, her eyes growing empty and distant and she didn't move for the longest time. She folded her hands in her lap looking down, her long silver hair falling into her eyes. He could hear her sniffle.

He knew. He didn't have to ask her but knew. Next week Kadar would be dead for four years. He had tried not to think about it to just shove it away at the back of his mind but no matter how hard he tried, the memories came always crawling back and there was nothing he could do. Malik simply nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He always liked your baklava", he murmured softly and startled when Marta reached across the table to take his hand, his left one, her thumb stroking across it. He had to withdraw, not able to stand her touch.

"Could we just not... talk about him?", he said after a while, the clock on Marta's kitchen wall the only sound breaking the silence, its soft tick-tock hammering into his ears. Marta looked hurt for a short moment but then the expression on her face melted and when Malik glanced upwards he saw pity – he hated pity. He couldn't be angry at Marta, couldn't be angry at the woman that had given him and Kadar something close to a home when they'd been younger, alone and frightened in a country they didn't understand. He didn't understand it now either.

"Alright then", Marta sighed and she leaned back in her chair. "Are you sure you don't want some coffee? I could make you some", she offered and that smile was back on her face, a smile only women her age could manage, all warm and motherly but he could see that the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth had gotten deeper.

Again he shook his head. "There's more, isn't there?", he asked her quietly and the rain outside got lighter. "Something you haven't told me yet."

"I'm going to move, Malik", she simply told him as she knew it was wasted energy to keep something away from him. He was good at reading people, always had been and most of the times she didn't manage to hide things from him. "I got the letter last week. They're going to tear the buildings on this block down, the children's home too. I can't afford a new place and I'm too old anyway. I found this cutest little retirement home", and she turned around, grabbing something on the kitchen counter and handing him a small brochure. Eve's Garden it read on the top, a picture underneath it showing a white house standing at the end of a green field with a small path leading towards it made out of white pebbles. It looked peaceful, almost nice. Even he had to admit that.

He looked up at her, the brochure between his fingers and blinked a couple of times. "They're tearing it down? Why?"

Marta sighed heavily. She'd been living here a long time. He came to the country when he was two years old, almost three living in the home down the street and Marta had been here just as long if not even longer.

"The block was bought by some investor anonymously. I don't know what they plan... a mall or something, oh what do I know", and she shook her head. "I have to be out of here by the end of the month."

"By the end of the month? But that's in two weeks!" Talk about short notice...

Marta smiled again and this time it looked empty. "I know darling. But there's nothing I can do and besides... my bones are a bit tired lately. I can't do as much as I used to do. It'll be better for me anyway."

Malik eyed her sceptically. "That doesn't sound like you", he murmured and picked up the baklava, bitting off another mouthful.

"No it doesn't, I-" She sighed heavily and looked up the ceiling, blinking rapidly and he knew she was fighting with tears. When she found his gaze again her eyes looked wet but no tears had fallen. "I always thought I would die here, you know?", she said softly, her voice small and kind of lost.

"Yeah I know", he sighed and this time it was him who reached across the table to hold her hand, the only comfort he could offer to her.


	4. Chapter 4

He got a call somewhere around noon.

"Mr. al-Sayf?"

"This is him", he said and tucked his cell between his shoulder and ear so he had his hands free to still type on his keyboard.

"St. Joseph hospital. We have you here as a contact in case of emergency?"

Malik stopped typing and his hand reached for his phone, putting it on his other ear as he sat up straight. "Yes?"

"We're calling because of Mrs. Marta Rodriguez and-"

"Did something happen?", he interrupted her feeling strangely calm and yet, he knew that something broke inside of him. "She had a heart attack this morning and-", "But I saw her this morning, she was fine."

The woman on the other line sighed. "Something like that can come very suddenly, Mr. al-Sayf. She's currently in the ER getting treatment but we think it'd be better for you to arrive here as soon as possible."

Malik nodded, "No, I'll come right away."

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and for a moment he just sat there motionless, staring at his flickering screen. He couldn't feel a thing, not even the cold grip of fear about losing her. Maybe he didn't only lose Kadar four years ago, but maybe he also lost a bit of his humanity. He stood slowly up and put on his coat. "I have to go", he told Ellen, a young intern sitting at the desk next to him. She looked up at him, her glasses sitting at the end of her nose and she watched him across them. "Something happened?", she asked as her fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee, slowly lifting it up to her lips.

"Some kind of emergency," he told her and her movements stilled, she made a small 'o' with her lips. "Don't worry about it", he told her as he wasn't in the mood to answer any questions or for false pity. He was gone before she couldn't say anything and the ride with the elevator took longer than usually – at least it felt like it even though it must have been only a few seconds before the doors opened again and he walked through the big entrance hall of the building he was working in. The big TV screens hanging on the walls showed the news and he quickly glanced at them. He saw pictures of police cars, flashing blue red and white and a money transporter with two bodies laying in front of it covered by a white sheet. He didn't pay it much attention as people were crossing his path as it was noon, most of them enjoying their break or going out for lunch. As he walked through the doors his eyes fell on a man and he thought he'd maybe seen him earlier that day. He brushed the thought quickly away as if it was just dust sitting on his shoulder and when he stepped outside, he called a cab.

At least it had stopped raining.

He told the driver his destination as he sat and closed the door, looking outside. He saw the man standing in the middle of the hall, watching Malik as people moved like busy little bees around him and he pulled a phone out of his pocket, dialing quickly. He lowered his gaze and when he saw his shoes he knew where he'd seen him before. The one in Marta's corridor just this morning. Huh – talk about coincidence.

The cab driver took off and the further they went through the streets the more he forgot about it and his thoughts returned back to Marta. She was a strong woman. Unfortunately, things like this happened and Marta was old. He wasn't too worried that she could die and that thought made him a little afraid. All these years he took Marta for granted and somehow, he'd thought she would always be there. When Kadar died, Marta was the closest thing he had left of a family. If something would happen to hear he'd be alone. He always ignored that thought and it wasn't any different now. Marta would be alright – she had to.

High buildings and street names were passing by as they drove and Malik turned a little in his seat. They were driving down to the docks. He frowned. "I don't think that's the right way", he said and his eyes found the back of the driver's head. He looked at his license. "Robert", he said as it was the name standing on the small plastic card. "You need to go the opposite direction."

But he didn't answer and he could hear the audible 'click' of the door locks shutting down. "What is this?", he asked him, but Robert tabbed a small sign just above his head over his rearview mirror. 'Do not talk with the driver' it read and Malik reached forward, his fingers curling around the back of his seat. "Stop the car, I want to get out", he told him but the man kept driving. "What the fuck is going on here?", he roared and reached for the small button to let the window down but nothing happened.

He turned back and could see that they were in fact down by the docks, big empty warehouses emerging from the grounds. The glass started fogging and he brushed his fingers across it to get a better look.

The car stopped and Robert turned off the engine, pushing a little button on his door and the window went down before he stepped out. "What the fuck? Wait!" Malik turned quickly back around, his eyes following the man and he tried the door handle but it was still locked. He turned in his seat, trying to look into every direction at once and then decided to climb into the front to escape through the open window.

Then he saw it. A small projectile flying through the open window, hitting the other one at the passenger side and falling into the footwell. The last thing he could remember was thick, white fog engulfing him, lights shinning into the car and a masked man approaching him holding a rifle in his hands and pointing it at Malik. He coughed, trying to cover his mouth with the fabric of his coat but it wasn't any use. He couldn't see anymore and his lungs burned with need for fresh air as his limbs grew heavy and he slumped down on the backseat. His eyes were heavily lidded but he couldn't move anymore and out of the corner of his eye he saw more men approaching, clothed in black with masks covering their faces. It almost looked like war.

He hoped Marta would forgive him.

xxx

The day just gotten worse and worse. It was shortly after they'd finished their coffee when Altair and Toto got the call that one of their vans had been attacked, all the money taken and two guards dead. As if that wasn't bad enough it got all the more real for Altair when he heard it happened on _his_ route, the one he usually drove with James, the very one he switched this morning. It could have been him. It could have been him the one getting taken away in a black body bag.

He took the rest of the day off and called in sick for his second job, walking numb through the city without having a destination. Toto had asked him if they wanted to get a beer at a nearby bar but he declined, not in the mood to be in the company of others. Every so often he stopped at little shops, looking through the windows and watching the news on their TV screens as the attack was all over them. It had stopped raining but there were still heavy clouds painted across the sky, dark and gray and it looked like as if it could start raining again any minute now. It was strangely fitting his mood and he pulled up the hood of his white sweater, trying to disappear in its shadows and blending out all of the other people he met on the streets. He wanted to disappear and not coming back. This country was sickening him, slowly draining him of all his life energy but where else should he go? He'd been to so many places in his life and not once did he feel at home. To be honest, he was rather surprised that he managed to stay for so long now in one place at all. He was used to something differently back from his childhood where they often switched locations as if his parents had always been on the run.

"Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad?"

Altair looked to his side, a black limo had stopped just next to him and he was looking in the face of a young woman. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking. The limo followed him.

"I'm Lucy Stilman from Abestergo Industries. I would like to talk with you", she insisted and he could imagine her eyes looking up at him from the backseat. After she said Abstergo he almost zoomed out, ignoring everything else she was saying after that. Not again, fucking hell, no! His day was already bad enough, he couldn't deal with these guys right now.

"I'm not interested. I've told you that multiple times by now", he replied and his mood got fouler by the second now. Those people seriously had a terrible problem with rejection and now it was starting raining again, big fat drops falling from the sky and one hit him in the neck, slowly running down underneath his clothes and across his spine. Altair shivered. It really wasn't his day, was it?

"Well, what can I say – my boss is really interested in you. Would you please join me?"

Altair stopped and turned towards her fully, gritting his teeth that his jaw hurt. "Look, lady-", "Ms. Stilman.", "- Ms. Stilman. I have no idea why you're interested in me so much that you harass me all the time. Whatever it is you're looking for, I assure you it's not me." He made to turn away but her next words stopped him.

"Oh but you're exactly the one we're looking for. In fact, we've been looking for you all your life."

"All my life?" Altair's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the sound of it but when he looked at her he couldn't see any danger in her features. In fact she was radiating a soft blue, a comforting color that made him ease just a little as if a soft blanket was wrapping around his body, keeping the cold away, but he couldn't forget the soft legs of the spider dancing across his spine.

She nodded and opened the door, stepping out of the limo with a black umbrella in her hands. She opened it to hold it over her head to not get wet. The rain slowly became more intense.

He snorted at her. "Yeah, right."

"I think you don't understand Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad", and he was a little impressed that she could pronounce his name without flaw. "We're not the bad guys here."

"It seems we both have very different definitions of 'bad'. Look, I already have two jobs and it's enough money for me to live. I'm not interested and now excuse me." Altair hunched his shoulders and made his way down the street. Lucy kept standing on the same spot he left her, the limo's engine still running. He felt her gaze burning into his back but he didn't care. Tomorrow he would change his phone number, yes and maybe their calls would stop.

"Have you always wondered why you've these strange dreams? Did it ever feel to you as if you don't belong anywhere? That nothing is true?", she called after him.

This – this made him stop and all the muscles in his body went rigid. Altair slowly turned around. She was still standing there in the rain, the drops slowly running down the black surface of her umbrella gathering in a small puddle to her feet, smiling at him. "We can help you find your answers", and for a moment he thought it was true. She looked at him with such honesty that it was hard to believe she was lying.

Altair tilted his head to one side. "What do you know about me?", he asked dangerously low, the rain completely forgotten. He was torn between his options – should he just walk away from her, acting as if the encounter never happened? But he never was the one to take flight. Or should he stay, waiting for what she had to say, what they could offer him and maybe find a way out of this mess that called itself his mind?

"Everything, Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad. We know everything about you."

He didn't like it, not one bit but Altair nodded. Could it get really worse? He didn't think so. Ever so slowly his feet set into motion and he crossed the small distance separating them.

Lucy held the door open for him as he climbed onto the backseat.

xxx

"How the hell did you manage for him to come with you?"

"I simply talked with him – it's what I've told you all along."

"My orders had been different."

"Your orders failed – now we have to deal with the mess of the aftermath. Two people died today. They didn't have to." Lucy crossed her arms in front of her chest. "He's here now isn't he? That's all that really matters." New confidence blossomed in her chest as she could present him his most favorite trophy. Not only his trophy but her ticket to freedom and the thought let goosebumps spread across her skin. She was excited and maybe it'd be her downfall but for the first time in a long time she wasn't afraid – she got the chance for a life now, a life without Abstergo.

Warren Vidic nodded slowly as he stepped away from the glass through which he'd watched him. It felt unreal and his skin was tingling. He had waited for this moment for so long now and couldn't believe it had finally come. He'd been working for this moment all these years and she was right, the circumstances really didn't matter.

"What about the other one?"

"Is waiting in room B 12."

"Did you talk with him as well?", he pondered and the smile he was showing her was mocking.

"Kind of..."


	5. Chapter 5

Altair waited.

He was looking between the large mirror to his left and the door in front of him, his hands resting on the cold metal table he sat at. This... didn't feel right. It didn't look like an office in which you sat when you were about to have a job interview. It looked more like an interrogation room. They had offered him coffee though which he'd accepted and it tasted like piss – nothing compared to Cem's coffee he enjoyed so much. A clock was hanging above the door showing him that it was in the early afternoon now. This was ridiculous – he has waited for an hour now! Just as he was about to get up the door opened, revealing a man in his early fifties and that woman, Lucy. She walked a little behind him and Altair had no doubt that he was the man she had been talking about, her boss.

"Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad. I'm so glad you could manage to follow our invitation. I'm Dr. Vidic." He held up his hand for Altair to shake but he simply stared at it and then back to his face, his ambers eyes reflecting in the man's glasses. Altair didn't move at all and his hand slowly sunk down.

"I would hardly call it invitation", he snorted and Lucy closed the door behind her as the man sat down in front of Altair at the other side of the table.

Vidic rested his elbows and arms on the table, his head hanging low between his shoulders and then he looked back up, a smile spreading around his lips. "Well you see, we're really interested in you and your skills", he smiled, his voice sounding warm and somehow fatherly. He held out one hand and Lucy quickly put a file in there and he opened it in front of him, turning a few pages. "You have a bright mind, Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad", and he looked up at him again, the file still in his hands and Altair craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse at the written words. "Why does an intelligent young man like you working for a security company and uh-", he looked back down onto the page, "a nightclub?"

Altair shrugged with his shoulders. "It's not bad money", he muttered and leaned back into his chair to bring a little distance between him and Vidic. He didn't like him.

"You speak four different languages among English. What were they again? Hebrew, Russian, Italian and... what was the last one?"

"German", Altair said softly and folded his hands in his lap.

Vidic spoke again, "You dropped out of school when you were seventeen. Why?"

Altair's eyes narrowed as he was flexing the muscles in his left hand. "If that file says so much about me then I'm sure you don't really need my answer. Just look it up."

Vidic's smile never died and he looked at Altair as if he had just solved some kind of riddle, all proud and delighted. Was this a test maybe? "You're right Mr. Ibn- or may I call you Altair- "No.", "-well, Altair. You dropped out of school after your parents died, isn't that right?"

He gritted his teeth, jaw working and his cheek's muscle was twitching. "Yes", he forced out between pressed lips.

"Car accident, mh?" Vidic picked something up, a photograph. The paper was thin enough for him to see what it showed on the other side and he looked away. Vidic clicked his tongue and for a moment his brow wrinkled in mild disgust. "Terrible, terrible", he said and shook his head, placing the photograph in front of him and as Altair glanced back up he was greeted by the sight of a destroyed car. It was hardly recognizable, completely wracked. Blood was covering the gray pavement, a piece of flesh showing in the cube of metal and he could only assume that it was a hand with all the bones showing, brain splattered on what had once been the windshield. He looked away again but said nothing.

"Your parents died near Munich. Hit by a ghost driver on the Autobahn going 180 km/h. They were both dead on impact."

"I know", Altair pressed the words out between his lips. "You don't have to tell me again."

"No", Vidic shook his head, smiling again and picked up the picture to place it back into the file. "You're probably right."

"Where did you get all of that? Are you working with the government?" Altair eyed him skeptical. If he learned one thing within the last few minutes, then that this wasn't a pharmaceutical company. Vidic chuckled again and pushed his glasses back on his nose. "I wouldn't call it like that but if that's what you want to believe I won't stop you."

Altair's patience was stretched like a string of bubblegum and it wouldn't take much longer before it'd tear. "Then who are you?"

He closed the file and leaned back in his chair, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his white coat. "Ah you see", he sighed and put them back on, "that's a good question. But I think the one you really want to ask is, who are you?"

"Who I am?"

"Exactly."

"I know very well who I am."

"No, you don't", and for the first time Vidic looked like as his aura felt for Altair, a flashing red light radiating danger. His eyes went cold and distant, almost greedy his face turning into an ugly mask of evil. "You're damaged, Altair. But we could _fix_ you."

"Damaged?" Altair placed both his palms on the table, arms outstretched. "I wasn't in that accident you know?" His chin gestured towards the file laying next to Vidic's hands on the table. "No brain injury or anything."

It only earned him a sharp laugh and Altair looked up at Lucy but her face was as emotionless as it could get, almost as if she was nothing but a statue. "No, I'm not talking about _that kind_ of damage. The problem is right here", and Vidic tapped his temple. Altair didn't understand.

"You see, I'm a scientist", Vidic told him and spread his arms to each side while he leaned heavily back, the chair's legs scratching over the floor in a loud screech and Altair cringed. "A researcher, you know? I assume you suffered from strange dreams? Nightmares?"

Altair nodded slowly though he was seriously considering to just leave. This just got more and more creepy and he wished for nothing more but sitting in Cem's coffee shop and sipping some mocha.

"It must be hard not knowing who you really are – everything feels empty, meaningless doesn't it?" Vidic sat a little more straight and his eyes narrowed, a shadow crawling across his face and Altair felt cold. It seemed the man was finally cutting to the chase. "Do you know Sigmund Freud?"

It wasn't what he'd expected and Altair blinked. "Course I do."

"Freud had a young and very talented apprentice. Carl Jung. Have you ever heard of animus and anima?"

Altair shook his head, no, he didn't.

Vidic sighed as if he was disappointed that he didn't understand and leaned his head to one side, folding his hands in front of him and looking down at them. "Jung believed that the anima and animus are the two primary archetypes of the unconscious mind. He described them as elements of the collective unconscious, a domain that transcends the personal psyche. You know, it is said that the key to controlling one's anima/animus is to recognize it when it manifests and exercise our ability to discern the anima/animus from reality."

He nodded with a frown.

"So basically... we're all acting on our ancestral memories. But there's more. We've _designed_ a machine which lets you _enter_ your ancestors memories and relive them. The Animus." Vidic was a little red in the face as if he was very excited and maybe he really was, some lunatic scientist who would scream any minute now 'It's alive!' and laugh like a maniac. Altair thought the picture of Frankstein's monster fit the situation perfectly – at least when it came to Vidic and that crazy look in his eyes.

And now Altair was lost. "What does this have to do with me?"

"You... you are special, Altair.", Vidic assured him and stood up, walking slowly back and forth. "Not only do you have a very old bloodline... but you actually _are_ your ancestor. A _reincarnation_." He made a final gesture with his hand. "Your DNA is to 100% identical - as if you're ancestor never died. You actually share the same name!"

He didn't say anything because all of it was just downright ridiculous and he didn't know he'd be able to hold back his laughter. So he just sat there, staring up at Vidic with a complete straight face.

Vidic chose to ignore his look. "As I've told you, you're broken Altair. We can make you _complete_ and you will get all the answers to your questions. How does that sound?"

Altair decided then to just go with it and he glanced shortly at Lucy, trying to read anything in her face but she just stared blankly back at him. "This sounds like something that doesn't come for free", he answered carefully and Vidic chuckled softly. "Why would you want to do this for me?" He didn't say that he didn't believe any of what he'd just been told.

"I'm looking for something, Altair and you know where I can find it."

Altair shook his head and scoffed, slowly getting up and standing behind the table. "No, no, no. I have enough of this. I don't know what kind of freaks you are." He looked between Vidic and Lucy. "Scientology, Mormons or whatever. But whatever it is you're believing in, I don't. Have a good day", and he made his way towards the door but Vidic stepped in front of him.

"I'm sorry Altair, but I fear I can't let you just go. You see, I've been looking for you for _years_."

"Too bad but it's not my problem." He tried to walk around him but again, the man stepped in front of him and placed one hand on Altair's shoulder, holding him back.

"Oh but yes it is", he nodded and there it was again, that smile of his which looked so fake. Vidic reached behind him and pressed the small button of an intercom. "Show him please."

New light spread into the room and to his left side Altair could see that the mirror vanished, replaced by a smooth window he could finally look through. He could see a room on the other side and there were two guards standing behind a chair with a man sitting in, a black hood covering his face and arms cuffed behind his back. Vidic noted to one of the guards and the man stepped forward, pulling away the black fabric and revealing his face. His black hair was tousled and he looked pale, blinking rapidly against the bright light.

Just... what the hell?

Vidic grasped his shoulder and stood close by, his lips almost brushing Altair's ear as he whispered into it, "He's like you and it was pure luck that we found him. You don't know it yet but he's very dear to you – I wish we didn't have to drag him into this but you left me no choice. Altair Ibn-la'Ahad meet Malik al-Sayf."

The memory collapsed above Altair like a wave, drowning him and pulling him deeper, deeper, deeper into the black abyss of his mind. He groaned and fell, hitting the ground hard with his knees and held his head as pain made it feel like as if it was ripped in two. Malik's name was ringing in his ears and he heard someone screaming but he couldn't breath any longer, gasping for air helplessly as sorrow threatened to crush his heart and smash it into thousand pieces.

"He's panicking", Lucy said and her voice sounded worried but Vidic just held her arm. "No, look", he said softly, smiling still. "I think we just triggered something."

Altair moaned with pain and held his head with both hands, looking back up and his eyes met Malik's who watched with horror. It was the last he saw before he lost consciousness, remembering a man staring at him holding a bloody arm with betrayal in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really... excited about this chapter and it's my favorite so far. I especially loved the part about Vidic showing Altair the picture of his parent's car - I'm an evil bitch but it nearly made me cry writing that.


	6. Chapter 6

_For us to live, you had to die._

His father died when he'd been elven. Altair had watched as they executed him – his father's life to save a traitor's. His life to pay for a mistake – but it only left one suffering in the end. An elven year old boy who watched his father's beheading, blood staining the grounds as his head fell with empty wide eyes staring up the gray sky. A few years later it happened all over again. The man who'd been as dear to him as his own father died through his blade. Some thought of Al Mualim as a demon, corrupted by the Apple's power, his mind poisoned. For Altair, it wasn't that easy. He couldn't see evil now as he looked at the old man's broken body. All he saw was a man who taught him so much as a child a youth and later as an adult. The worst part was that Altair knew _–_ in his twisted mind, Al Mualim didn't mean harm. He thought what he did was _good_ , he thought he delivered peace. And Altair understood which made it even harder for him to breath now as he carried the corpse towards the pyre. He couldn't hate him and he didn't see a demon when he looked at him, just a man who wanted to do good with terrible methods.

He was eyed skeptical by several members of the Order, some of them still trapped within the artifact's magic, its invisible threads looped around their bodies and playing them like little puppets. Most of them were simply confused, scared maybe, as their Grandmaster had died and everything was at chaos. Others though believed Altair being the real traitor, corrupting their Master's mind and lulling him into doom, killing him in the end as if he'd been planing everything right from the beginning. Only a few knew the truth as they had fought by Altair's side, helping him to get into the fortress so he could meet his fate as he stood in front of Al Mualim, ready to find his death if he should fail. No one stopped him as he walked towards, laying their Master down onto the piled wood, his fingers brushing across the black robes and for a moment he thought he was only sleeping. Nobody was attending the funeral as it wasn't really one, his Brothers holding their distance - most didn't approve with burning him. As the sun slowly died and with the moon rising it was just him standing their, his Grandmaster's ashes still glowing a soft orange its heat reaching his skin, warming him.

He didn't turn around when he heard him slowly walking up to him. Malik stopped just shortly behind Altair – even he didn't dare to get any closer. He was silent for the longest of moments, the fire still cracking. "Sad are only those who understand", Malik said eventually. Altair's head felt just a bit heavier, his muscles tired and heart cold. He had his hood up, shielding him from the soft breeze blowing and from everybody's eyes watching him. He wondered how it was possible for Malik to be so spot on and his shoulders slumped down as he curled the fingers of his left hand into a tight fist. "You know what he always said? We're using lies to tell the truth while the Templars use them to cover the truth up", Altair murmured softly, his words carried away by the wind and sparks were dancing in front of him. He looked up into the dark sky, the wind bringing tears to his eyes. "It makes me wonder now which of those he did."

"Don't confuse yourself Altair. He was fooling us, betraying and compromising our Creed. You did the right thing in the right moment."

"And when the moment ends?"

"When the moment ends it's in the past. The past shouldn't weight you down."

They were quiet after that, both lost in their own memories, fighting their own inner battles. While Altair often enjoyed the silence, today it was just too loud for him to bear. "What are you doing here anyway?", he asked Malik in a raspy voice.

"We are one, Altair", and he thought he could hear the smile in his voice. "As we share the glory of victory-"

"-so too should we share the pain of defeat", Altair finished as it was the same Malik told him back in Jerusalem when he'd told him he was sorry.

"It seems today it's both. Victory and defeat", Malik murmured, placing one hand on Altair's shoulder, squeezing gently. It was actually nice not being alone also Altair was torn between shoving the other man away or relaxing underneath his touch. His muscles went tense anyway and for a split second he trembled, fearing for a moment that he wouldn't be able to control his emotions any longer. He swallowed it all down then and they stood there for a long time until it was deep in the night, the fire had long died and its warmth was gone. Malik had left eventually, leaving Altair by himself and when the ash had cooled down he took a fistful of it, stretching his arm out and then letting go, all of it, the gray flakes flying away with the wind just like the memory he had of a man that no longer existed.


	7. Chapter 7

When he woke up it felt like as if somebody had hit him across the head with a hammer. The world was foggy and it took him a few seconds before he could find the strength to open his eyes. He blinked and the room was spinning as he was nauseas. He was on a drip-feed, laying in a bed in a complete white room. For a small moment his sluggish brain thought it looked straight from a horror movie. Altair wanted to rip off the tubes going to his nose, helping him breath but he found his hands restrained to the bed frame, soft leather manacles wrapped around his wrists and holding him in place. The soft noise of beeping filled the room, the lights dim and it seemed it was late in the evening. There was a window to his left and he could watch the city lying to his feet.

"I'm sorry for these."

Lucy pushed herself off the wall to his right side and Altair glared at her, gritting his teeth. "Then take them off", he told her, his eyes never leaving her frame as she slowly walked around the bed, watching the monitors and changing something on his IV. "I will in a moment." He didn't try pulling at his restraints – he always thought it looked ridiculous when they did it on TV. If he wanted to get out of here he wouldn't need his muscular strength but his mind. Now – first things first.

"What happened?" He licked across his chapped lips and his voice sounded hoarse, his throat was dry. Since it was already dark outside he assumed he'd been unconsciousness for at least a few hours. He sighed heavily and his head sunk a little further into the pillow – did they drug him? He felt almost too weak to move at all. "You had a small seizure", Lucy told him straight forward and Altair looked at her frowning, tilting his head to one side, eyes narrowing. "Uhm... what?" Lucy sighed and she rubbed her temple with one hand. "You see, I think-", she sighed again and her hand dropped back to the side of her body. "How much do you remember from today?", and she was holding his gaze, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Altair sighed and he closed his eyes, trying to brush the wafts of mist from his mind. "I remember... coming here. You picked me up", and his amber eyes opened again, glaring at her with actual betrayal. He had trusted her and learned one more time that no one could be trusted in this world anymore. It didn't mean it hurt any less. "I remember talking with Vidic...", he murmured and coughed, Lucy quickly reacting and holding up a glass filled with water and a straw inside so he could drink. After Altair swallowed she put the glass back onto the small table to his side. He looked back at her and for a short moment there were two Lucy's standing there, his vision blurring.

"Everything is just blank after that..." He remembered Malik but he didn't say it – maybe it was better if he would just keep it to himself. But he _remembered_ him even if it wasn't much. A man he knew from his past but Altair couldn't say which past anymore. Vidic's words still echoed inside his head like a mantra and it was difficult to grasp their whole meaning as he didn't understand any of it yet. This shit was just too crazy too believe. But he would get there – he would get to the truth. He wondered what had happened between waking up and going to work and then coming here, as if somebody had just pushed him into some kind of weird parallel universe. "He said he could fix me", he added and now he did pull at his bindings even though it was just a bit but it really started to get uncomfortable and fuck, he just wanted to go home now.

"Yes he can. _We_ can help you, Altair." Her eyes fell on his wrists. "I will take them off now. We've put them on so you wouldn't hurt yourself..."

"And here I thought I was some kind of prisoner", and Altair expected Lucy to laugh and wave him off, telling him how silly he was for thinking that but her lips turned into a grim line instead. "I'm not a prisoner, am I?", he pondered carefully and Lucy's hands flew across his skin, taking one wrist to release him. "You're not...", she shook his head, her voice soft and quiet.

"But?" Altair looked up at her and drew his hand towards his chest once his left one was free.

"There's no but", and his right hand was free was well. "We're really hoping for you to help us Altair", she was almost looking at him with pleading eyes. "It's a fair deal we offer. You help us and we help you."

That couldn't be true. Lucy might try convincing him nothing bad would happen but Altair knew better. He remembered Malik, staring at him with wide eyes. He had only gotten a few seconds to look at him, but he'd seen that he'd been beaten. "If I'm not a prisoner then what am I?", he asked her instead.

"I would hope for you to become a partner... some kind of business partner", she shrugged with her shoulders and walked around his bed, leaning next to the window with her arms crossed behind her back and she seemed smaller, more fragile... sad actually.

_Sad are only those who understand._

Altair hissed with pain, his hand coming up to his temple. His head hurt, a sharp pain which felt like as if it would rip him in two. Lucy leaned her head to one side, her eyebrows rising with worry. "Everything alright?"

Altair nodded and swallowed a whimper, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I just... need a few... seconds", he groaned.

"What?"

"Just a few seconds", he said again and looked up at her, watching how she stepped closer, her hands placed onto the bed as she leaned forwards. "Altair...?" His eyes were flashing, turning bright and almost yellow for half a second. She pushed herself back, moving towards the door. "Maybe I should call Dr. Vidic..."

"What?", Altair called after her, turning in his bed. "What does that mean? Hey! Where are you going?" But she left without saying another word, almost fleeing the room and he could hear a key turning in a lock. Great. No prisoner, huh? Bullshit. Altair pushed back the blanket covering him and, oh joy, they stripped him off his clothes, leaving him wearing nothing but boxers and a white t-shirt. He was still weak on his legs as he stood and he walked towards the window. He was high above the ground and able to watch over the whole city. It was actually kind of a nice view. He'd always liked heights even when he'd been a kid, no tree or rock could ever be high enough for him not to climb and he often watched the birds passing through the sky, wishing he was one of them and free like an eagle.

"... I think he's Bleeding, or something", he heard a faint voice coming from the other side of the door and he turned a little.

"How's that possible? We didn't even start yet."

"I don't know, you tell me!"

The door flung open and he stood once more in front of Lucy who was followed by Vidic. His eyes narrowed at them and his hand turned into a tight fist as he gritted his teeth. "I see you're up and well?", he asked Altair, a delightful smile playing around his lips, looking like a kid on Christmas morning about to open all the presents.

_He's like you and it was pure luck that we found him._

Vidic still smiled at him and Altair wanted to wipe it off his face forever. "So?", Vidic beckoned at him but he refused to get any closer. Altair slowly shook his head and the man sighed, turning towards Lucy. "This won't get us anywhere Ms. Stillman."

_You don't know it yet but he's very dear to you._

Lucy took one step forward, sensing his distress. "Altair, he's here to help you. You had a _seizure_. That's nothing you should take easy. He just wants to do some tests with you, see if everything is functioning as it should be."

_I wish we didn't have to drag him into this but you left me no choice._

Lucy slowly lifted her hand and it was only then that he realized he had reached the end of the room, slowly walking backwards and his shoulders met the cool glass of the window behind him. Lucy was looking at him as if he was a scared little fawn. He hated her pity, her fake sympathy.

"Altair... come on boy. Talk with me", Vidic smiled but his eyes narrowed, his mouth smiling but the rest of his face didn't show anything friendly at all.

_Altair Ibn-la'Ahad meet Malik al-Sayf._

And something just _snapped_ inside of Altair. "Fuck you", he told him and Vidic's eyebrows shot up in surprise, meeting the line of his hair. "Oh, I see", he told Lucy and focused back on Altair. "Do you realize you're not speaking English?"

Altair blinked – and blinked again, head tilted to one side giving the impression of a confused dog. "What?", he mouthed the word, all of his anger forgotten. "You're speaking Arabic. Very ancient Arabic I dare to say, a dialect not many are familiar with these days. So – could you please switch back to English?" Vidic made a small circling motion with his hand and while he was still smiling, he also looked a little annoyed. When nothing happened, Altair just standing there and staring back at them, he sighed and looked up the ceiling. "Ms. Stillman? A word outside please?"

Lucy looked from between Altair and Vidic and in the end, her eyes settled on Altair as she noted, her gaze never leaving his face. "Of course", she told him, following the man outside and into the hall.

When the door closed behind them, Altair slowly slumped down the window until he sat onto the ground. Earlier he wondered what had gone wrong between him getting up that morning and going to work and ending up here – he thought he kind of knew it now. It seemed as if he'd lost himself somewhere in between.

xxx

"I think we set something off earlier. He's starting to Bleed but I would rather see him in the Animus. We can control the Bleeding there – I don't want somebody like him loose. Do you understand?"

Lucy nodded slowly. "He's a wild beast Ms. Stillman and you should not pity him. I can see it in your eyes", Vidic warned her, then sighed theatrically. "It's always the same with you women. You see a hurt man and it's the same as if you see a cute little puppy. This is no puppy, he's a wolf and he wouldn't hesitate killing you. Men like Altair need a muzzle. He needs the Animus."

She swallowed again. "Yes Sir."

"Good. Now...", Vidic lowered his voice so it was barely just above a whisper. "Tell him we're going to do a few tests – just about everything that could get damaged during a seizure. If he agrees... you put him into the machine. Tell him it's for testing his brain function or something. I'm sure a bright young woman like you can think of something? He seems to like you better", Vidic grinned and Lucy felt sick to her stomach.

"You really want to go through with this?", she asked him even though she knew the answer. "Once he's woken up he probably won't remember anything from his life in the 21th century. You're going to erase his old personality, old memories." She shuddered a little and while Vidic had told her not to pity him, she did. Nobody should suffer such fate.

Vidic watched her, his hands crossed behind his back. "His whole life has been a lie – I'm just going to show him the truth."


	8. Chapter 8

Malik groaned heavily when he came back to consciousness, blinking his eyes open as he was sitting on a chair. Something soft covered his face and it was hot, his head hurting and his throat felt like sandpaper when he swallowed. He rolled his shoulders and wanted to rub his face with both hands but he found he couldn't move them as they were secured behind his back and his wrists hurt as if he'd been restrained for far too long now. His lower back was hurting too and Malik realized it was dark fabric covering his face like a hood.

"Welcome back, Mr. al-Sayf", and he startled at the sudden sound of the voice booming loudly through the room he was sitting in, hammering into his head and adding to the pain. The voice sounded electronic as it came through an intercom and he turned his head towards the source. "Who is this?" The words came out as an raspy old sound and he wondered if somebody could understand him at all. His throat was dry, he needed water and Malik coughed, hunching his shoulders and leaning forward. "What do you want with me?", he added, his memories still foggy and he had a hard time to form a straight thought at all.

"Let's just say you're here as leverage", the voice told him. "I was hoping for you to help us with something." Didn't that sound bitter sweet?

Malik's head hung low between his shoulders, his body slumped forwards as he hardly had the strength to keep himself up right."What?", he thought he only mouthed the word but a soft chuckle followed soon and he realized he'd spoken out loud.

"You know...", the voice sounded heavily, "for someone with your background you made it pretty easy to capture you. Didn't you serve in Iraq?"

He shook his head again and fuck, the movement hurt and he could feel his pulse beating wildly inside his head. "What?", he asked dumbfounded again, not understanding a thing. "What the hell is going on?", he roared and pulled at his restraints, trying to free himself but it only caused the handcuffs to cut further into his skin. They were too tight and he must have struggled before, his flesh raw and hurting. The air became sticky underneath the hood.

"I just need to confirm who you are Mr. al-Sayf and we can move on. Born in Syria isn't that right?"

He nodded and wasn't even sure if they could see the movement. "And you immigrated to Iran shortly after with your parents?"

Again he nodded and he had honestly no idea why he did anyway as whoever it was speaking with him could just fuck themselves.

"They were killed weren't they? Because of the war? You and your brother were taken to the United States and placed in a children's home." There was a small pause. "Why where you brought here anyway?"

"We were injured. Needed medical treatment and surgery. They... couldn't do it there", Malik explained. This was clearly a misunderstanding and he kind of got the feeling they were thinking of him as an terrorist – he just couldn't come up with any other explanation than why he was here, getting asked all of these things.

"Oh yes, that's right. The building you were living in with your parents was destroyed due to a missile. It says here you were trapped underneath the debris for three days before soldiers found you. Mr. al-Sayf, may I ask a question?" Malik thought it was funny because there was no doubt they would ask anyway even if he'd say no. "Why did someone like you with your background serve in the military? You've learned the ugly sides of war at a very early age."

"Shut up", Malik muttered and his whole body jerked which almost caused him losing his balance.

"Your brother served as well. You and him weren't so lucky, were you?" He thought the voice sounded mocking and Malik gritted his teeth. He wanted them to shut up, to just leave him as the images of old memories invaded him like a storm, tearing through his body and leaving nothing but chaos behind. "You almost lost your arm at an ambush and were sent back home. That arm's still bothering you, isn't that right? You're taking really strong pain medication. One could almost think you're addicted to them."

"I need them", he pressed out between his lips, each word cutting into they memories and ripping them apart. "They help me functioning."

"They help you forget", the voice invaded the darkness, making it feel like as if they were able to look straight into his head. He slowly came to realize this was a planned thing, a planned kidnapping and he was currently held hostage – he could no longer hold onto the hope that they got the wrong guy because this... this was really him wasn't it? They were really looking for him with all the background they knew.

"Your brother was killed on his second tour. Three days before he was about to go back home. Oh! Today's the fourth anniversary of his death isn't it?" His said nothing to that, breathing heavily as nausea rolled across him like a heavy wave, drowning him and pulling him deeper. "That's really bad luck..."

"Shut up!" The words echoed in the empty room and Malik slumped back, swallowing heavily and rolling his head back, eyes set towards the ceiling. "Shut up...", he said again, quieter now and sweat was covering his skin like a thin sheet.

"Mr. al-Sayf", the voice sighed theatrically again, sounding maybe a bit disappointed, "There's no reason for you to feel so upset", and Malik could have punched them right then and there into the face. He imagined them smirking, all satisfied and smug about the fact he was at their mercy. "And there's nothing really to worry about."

"You've kidnapped and cuffed me to a chair." He didn't mention they had drugged him too. "And you tell me I don't have to worry?" He scoffed and pulled his shoulders up, shifting in the chair a bit. "Yeah, right. Look, I'm no terrorist, there's no reason for you to keep me like this."

"He's waiting for you Sir."

This was another voice just there, sounding small and distant as if the person wasn't speaking directly into the microphone but to whoever had just spoken with Malik. A second later he could hear some muffled voice, somebody was covering the intercom with their hand so he couldn't hear.

"- two guards." That was all he managed to make out before the voice returned speaking to him. "I can't believe there are two of you...", and Malik had no idea just what they were talking about. It sounded more like as if it wasn't meant for him to hear.

"Alright, alright." Malik nodded and he licked over his dry lips. "Just... just tell me what you want okay? This has to be a misunderstanding. Is it money you want? I don't have any, you've got yourself the wrong guy for that!"

"No, no. No money Mr. al-Sayf. I just need you for someone to remember."

"To remember?"

"Yes", and he could imagine them smiling.

A door opened and he startled and the light was switched on. He still couldn't see with the hood covering his eyes but it wasn't as dark anymore as it had been before. Footsteps were filling his ears as heavy boots walked across the floor and he just kicked at them since he could still move his legs – he wouldn't go down without a fight and his resistance earned him a hit to his head, an elbow meeting his eye and then another one, hitting him in the jaw. He groaned in pain, his head flung to the side and he could taste metal, blood pouring down his throat as his tooth had cut into his lip from the force of the blow.

"We don't like behavior like that Mr. al-Sayf. Stay calm and all will be explained soon."

Malik heard a soft 'click' and he assumed the intercom had been turned off now. There were two of them, he could feel them standing just behind him, could hear the faint rustling of fabric as they breathed. The men with him in the room said nothing but one firm hand was placed on his shoulder and pulled him upright against the chair again. He didn't say anything at all, his erratic breathing reverberating from the naked walls of the room. He had no idea how long he waited there but he felt weaker within the minute. The hood covering his face made the air sticky and hot, sweat tickling him at the back of his neck and his jaw and eye hurt, as did most of the rest of his body.

Time passed and he heard another click, the sound of something moving and then there was that voice again, the guards to his sides shifting. "Show him please", and the hood was ripped of his face, bright light invading his eyes and making them water and his head hurt. He was sitting in front of a window and could see into the next room, two men and one woman sitting there and one of them he recognized.

Malik stared at him with wide eyes and then the man's eyes rolled back as his whole body started to tremble and he hit the ground soon. The woman uickly went to his side, feeling for a pulse and rolling him on his side, white foam starting to build in front of his mouth. She was speaking to the other man, making wild gestures. Malik realized something was going wrong, terrible wrong and another man walked into the room, all clothed in white with a black bag in his hand, kneeling down. The second man, the one with the beard and glasses turned towards the window, teeth clenched and his lips pulled into a grim line. His eyes found Malik's and he knew just then that it was the man he had talked to over the intercom. He pushed a button next to his side and the window went dark and Malik looked at his own reflection in the mirror.

A second later he heard another click, the same voice loud and so much colder now, "Make him ready."

xxx

" _So what did Vidic want from you?_ "

Lucy closed the door softly behind her, leaning against it with her back, hands shoved into the pockets of her pants. She rubbed her fingers across her brow, taking a deep breath in. It had started raining again, the soft sound of raindrops pattering against the window the only noise which filled the room. Altair had pulled the cables off his body earlier and shut down the machine. Lucy shook her head. "We need to do some tests-" She said it as if she would ignore his question.

" _The fuck you can_!"

"- we wouldn't want to risk your health. We _are_ a pharmaceutical company after all", she flashed him a small lop-sided smile but Altair didn't return it, his eyes as cold as ever as they roamed over her body. She looked fit, very fit and he thought he could actually see a six-pack underneath her tight t-shirt. Her shoulders were broad, she was working out that's for sure. He wondered how hard he had to hit her for her to lose consciousness. He throat was vulnerable, he could use the side of his hand, hitting her there – but that could also kill her. Altair blinked just then – this wasn't like him. Yes, he knew how to defend himself, he knew how to kill but he'd never looked at anybody like _that_ , like a predator who knew the human anatomy very well, knew where to hit, where to inflict pain and how to _kill_.

Lucy pushed herself off the wall, rubbing her hands together. She either didn't notice his look or didn't want to show him that she did, but right now she kept he friendly façade. "You're still speaking Arabic", she told him and ah, that explained why she didn't answer his question nor flinch when he insulted her. He didn't really notice speaking it. He just _did_ , not paying much attention to how the words sounded coming out of his mouth, if Arabic or English. "That's probably because of your seizure", she made a small waving motion with her hand and then held it out to him. "I can help you. We can _fix_ this", she told him emphatically and his eyes fell on her outstretched hand and he thought he could see it trembling.

He weighted his options and decided just then and there. He shook his head – even she would understand that. No, he wouldn't let them do any tests. No, he didn't want her help. No, Vidic could just _fuck_ off. In the far distance he could hear thunder crawling through the sky. "Please", she tried to reach out for him, to grasp his shoulder but he shook her off and knew just then that she came to realize she'd lost his trust. "Come on – don't make me do this." Her voice was almost pleading now and he scoffed because she acted as if she had actually a chance to convince him working with them. Again he shook his head and made to walk pass her, pushing her aside as he reached for the door handle but she placed one hand firmly on his chest, holding him back. "You don't have any clothes, you can't go outside like this", and he looked down his body. Altair shrugged with his shoulders, he didn't care and if he had to walk naked out there, he would because every step would bring him further away from these people. "Wait for me here. I get you something to wear", she told him softly and pushed against his chest, bringing more distance in between them. He felt more like a trapped animal with everybody acting as if his fate was already sealed.

" _Let me go_."

"Altair..."

" _Now!_ "

She flinched, her shoulders slumping. "I'll get you some clothes", she muttered once more and she couldn't manage anymore to hold his gaze, looking down on his chest where his collarbone was. "I'll be right back", she told him and her voice was small and fragile as if something inside of her was breaking apart. Her hands reached behind her back, searching for the door handle without looking and she slipped out of the room, locking him inside again.

He could have just grabbed and pushed her to the ground and yet he didn't. He could have easily overpower her, he could have taken her hostage, he could have – he could have done so much and yet he hadn't moved one single muscle in his body, not even his little finger. All which was left was the feeling that sometimes an alley could look like an enemy and it felt like a déjà vu. The back of his head prickled with old faded memories, emotionless and faceless, empty images whirling inside his head mostly black.

He could hear a hissing noise, like the angry snarl of a snake just above his head and Altair looked up, soft mists of bright white smoke filling the room. His eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth, his hands turning into tight fists.

What a fucking bitch.


	9. Chapter 9

" _Welcome to the Animus."_

It was the last he heard, white fog engulfing him as he made his way through the mists and the world came tumbling down, breaking apart only to be re-built within the blink of an eye. He stood in the middle of a courtyard, the sound of steel hitting steel piercing his ear, men shouting and goats bleating. It was cold and the ground wet as he set one foot in front of the other. Altair looked down on his hands, his nails dirty. It was early in the morning and the sun was slowly crawling up the sky but today it was covered by thick gray clouds almost touching the ground and swallowing the earth. He made his way towards the stables and beyond them, walking down a small hill with grass covered by first frost. He kept walking until he reached an old abandoned field, a small stable underneath a large oak tree in the far distance which had once been used to hold sheep. Behind the stable was a small creek which had been a river but as the last few summers had been hot with hardly any rain at all it was almost completely dried out by now. Altair stepped into the stable, the wood musty and old and the smell of sheep and hay still lingered in the air.

He could sense him approaching before he felt the hand on his shoulder, a hard push to his back sent him stumbling forwards – it wasn't much to make him lose his balance, it needed a lot more than that so Altair moved with the push, rolling his shoulder and turning slightly to the side, changing the position of his feet on the ground and leashing at him with his arm. He saw it coming and Altair's hand met empty air as he put one foot between his legs and Altair tripped over it and for a moment, lost his focus. Hands placed on his chest, pushing him back until he met the stable's wall and he snarled, angry at himself for falling for such an easy trick trying to wedge his own foot behind his knee and pressing back against him, trying to send him to the ground. But he was pushing back, his chest like a wall he couldn't break through and then, just like that, he gave away and stepped back but there was still Altair's foot and he lost his balance. For a moment, a smirk caressed Altair's lips but it only lasted for maybe half a second as his fingers curled in the front of Altair's robes, pulling Altair with him to the ground. They landed in a tangled heap of limbs and chaos, clawing at each other as each one of them tried to keep the upper hand, rolling over the dirty cold floor, forgotten pieces of hay sticking to their clothes and mud rubbing into the fabric. It was Altair who was on his back and he knocked him over, his elbow meeting his ribs and it changed everything once more with Altair straddling his hips, reaching for his wrist to pin it against the ground next to his head. They were both panting now, their breaths gathering in small white clouds in front of their mouthes and for a few seconds, nothing happened as they glared at each other. Altair was leaning down as a pair of eyes roamed over his face and he smirked, pushing his hand back to the ground forcefully as he made another attempt to get free. Their lips were almost touching now and he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye but it was too late to react. The knee hit him in the back and he slumped forwards, loosening his grip of his wrist for just half a second but it was enough for him to free himself. The tables were once more turned, only now he found himself on his stomach, his arm pinned painfully behind his back.

"Enough of that", he growled into Altair's ear, his breath splashing like small waves against his skin and it send a small shiver down his spine. He didn't answer but gritted his teeth and he only pushed his hand higher up between his shoulder blades, sending a new bolt of pain through his body. Altair groaned and he tried to hit him but he just changed his position, pressing his knee down onto his backside to keep him perfectly pinned to the ground. His body bucked underneath his hold as he tried to shake him off before he laid still, breathing heavily and the silence was too loud. A few seconds later Altair tried it again and once more it was no use. In the end he kept laying there, a thin sheet of cold sweat covering his brow. He waited for Altair to calm down, leaning down to his ear. "Do you behave now?"

When he said nothing and after several minutes had passed without him trying to get free again, he let go of Altair's arm and slowly got up. Altair turned around and on his back, looking up at him and eyed the hand in front of him, grabbing it to get up. Their clothes were dirty, the both of them panting, glaring at each other. He didn't know who moved at first, maybe they both did but it didn't matter in the end as he closed his arms round him, their lips meeting in a kiss. Altair framed his face with both hands as he didn't want him to go, their tongues meeting in a slow dance, whirling around each other, invading each other's mouths in small waves. He almost melted underneath those lips, warmth spreading through his body and chasing away the cold. His heart was beating wildly and not just because of the adrenaline shooting through his veins because of the previous fight but of a whole different reason. He'd waited too long for this and now that the moment was there, he didn't want it to end, not ever. But they had to part eventually, both gasping for air as they had stolen each other's breath.

Malik was the first to move, taking a step back and bringing some distance between their bodies, Altair's hands falling from his face. Malik shook his head, "No." Altair held his breath and slowly released the air between his lips as he tried to close the gasp between them but Malik held him at arm's length. "This has to stop", he hissed and his fingers closed above the fabric of Altair's robes and his arm slowly sunk down before he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. "You're right", Altair nodded, lips pressed to a thin fine line. "I'm getting tired of letting you win all the time."

Malik groaned, then scoffed and resisted the urge to just roll his eyes at the younger man. "Don't turn this into some joke Altair."

"I'm not", he insisted and tried again to get close to him but Malik turned away. "What is this today?", he pondered with a hint of worry and he went pale as he finally realized. Malik couldn't meet his eyes, not this time and his shoulders were stiff. "Why?", Altair asked him, voice thin.

"And here I thought you're not a novice anymore. Are you that ignorant to not see it?" Malik wiped his face, turning around to face him, their eyes meeting and the look he saw in them hurt Altair probably more than he would ever be able to admit. "This", Malik gestured between the two of them, "is wrong. It's forbidden."

"You're telling me I'm ignorant and yet you use the same foul lies the Templars would tell us?"

"Are you calling me a Templar?"

"No. But nothing is true and-"

"-and everything is permitted. Don't hide behind those words. This has gotten over our heads. If nothing is true then-"

"Don't." Altair interrupted him, a sick ugly feeling of boiling anger rising within him, the bitter taste of bile burning his throat. "Don't you dare to say it."

"Then how do you know this", and again he nodded at Altair, then looked down his own body, "isn't just another lie?"

He blinked at him, dumbfounded. "I just do", he said quietly and he reached for Malik's hand, their fingertips touching but the other man pulled away. "But you don't trust me", he added a moment later, Malik's rejection feeling like a stab to his heart. Malik said nothing and while flames of betrayal and hurt licked across his skin, threatening to eat him alive he didn't move at all, wasn't even flinching. Instead Altair's eyes just grew cold. "No you don't", he voiced what Malik couldn't say. "And I thought you weren't one of them."

At that Malik looked up. "One of them?", he pondered, his fingers curling into a tight fist and Altair knew they were just at the brink of another fight.

"A fucking sheep", he spat and lost his control for just a small moment but it was enough for Malik to know what he just did to him. "A mindless, little sheep following the shepherd without questions as long as they're well fed. Look at you, you're almost choking on all those lies they feed you."

"Be careful of your next choice of words They might be your last before I rip your tongue out." Malik was practically fuming with rage and Altair knew he was pushing the older man. He just wanted him to hurt as much as he did at the moment, wanted to punish him, to make him suffer. He wouldn't step back, he wouldn't lose his ground in front of Malik. "Then prove me wrong", he hissed and he closed the distance between them with one large step, curling his fingers around Malik's shoulder and shoving him backwards. "Tell me this isn't true", he snarled, his body pressing up against Malik as he pushed him back still until Malik couldn't move any further, the wall blocking his escape route.

"It isn't true."

"You're a liar", Altair whispered, their faces so close they were breathing the same air, lips almost touching once more. Malik didn't move for a long time, just kept breathing heavily through his nose, his face pulled into an ugly angry mask.

"You're an ignorant", he said eventually and Altair's fist twitched but he didn't punch him. He let go of Malik's collar, his hands slowly sinking and he simply stared at him for the longest of times.

"So that's your decision?", he asked in a small voice, the words hoarse and heavy and in fact it did feel like as if they pulled him towards the ground as his legs grew weak. Altair stepped away, his voice thin and worn out, "I'm leaving tomorrow in two weeks. Master sends me on a mission to France. He told me this morning."

Malik simply nodded and Altair waited for him to say something, anything but the man pressed his lips tightly together and he knew getting Malik to talk was mostly an impossible task. "Is that how it is?", he asked him as he couldn't stand his silence any longer. Malik closed his eyes, sighing deeply and when he looked back up, he stared right over Altair's left shoulder at the opposite wall.

Altair nodded. "So be it", and he turned around, leaving the stable and the man inside behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

He was sitting on the edge of a roof, crouched and hands dangling between his legs as his target was about to leave the small tavern to his feet, the moon high in the sky and the air cold. His hidden blade came to live, his finger twitching nervously and activating the mechanism of the weapon when he was watching the man stumbling outside and onto the street, clearly drunk from too much wine. This late of the night, there were only a few up, mostly drunkards trying to walk home as it was the beginning of the week their money quickly spent on alcohol, or guards patrolling the streets of Le Mans. So far it was quiet and he was sitting in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to strike. 

 

The man was old, early forties and he was using the whole street as he walked _-stumbled-_ home, singing a song Altair didn't know and his words were sluggish, his tongue heavy by the wine he'd had. His eyes never stopped leaving the figure and he stood slowly, making his way over the roofs tops, jumping across street canyons as his target was heading towards the poor district – he was a noble man, his way should lead him to his home in the rich district. Altair though knew what business he had there and he was determined to catch him first. He'd spent the last month in France, always feeling like as if he was hunting nothing but the shadow of a man. A week ago he was able to gather important informations about the man he was after and learned that he was currently staying in Le Mans after he'd been searching for him in Paris. So, he traveled France's roads and made it to the city three days ago. He spent yesterday and the day before with observing his target, learning its routine and decided quickly to strike today as it was Monday and he was known for liking to spend his money on good wine and women to start the week. 

 

Altair run ahead as he knew exactly where his target would turn into a small aisle, the shadows dark enough to swallow Altair when he would start his attack. He stopped, suppressing the urge to take deep breaths of air to keep silent. He could hear a dog barking in the distance, a hoarse whinnying. He watched his target turning into the small street, then stopping and leaning heavily against a wall. Altair cocked one eyebrow and watched how he emptied his stomach, the sound of vomit splashing on the ground loud in the night's silence. His face wrinkled up into a mask of mild disgust and he rubbed over his mouth, slowly crawling towards the edge of the roof and looking down. His target stretched his back, shoulders rolling and spitting on the ground several times before he continued his way towards Altair. When he was close enough, the assassin jumped. 

 

Altair caught him by surprise, of course he did, and he took his target with him to the ground, his blade piercing through his shoulder. The wound wasn't enough to kill him but sure hurt like hell. He pressed his palm quickly over his mouth, muffling the sounds of cries as pain ripped through the man's body and he leashed at Altair who just ducked underneath his hand, connecting his elbow with the man's back knocking all the air out of his lungs. He sat up and crawled backwards, eyes wide and his back met a wall. Altair curled his finger in his collar and pulled him up, his target slumping heavily against the wall with his palm covering his shoulder, blood running through his fingers and staining the ground to their feet. Altair pressed close, his elbow across his chest near his throat and he wouldn't hesitate to increase his hold to keep him from breathing. “Keep quiet Alain de Sablé or I swear I will cut your throat”, he hissed into his ear, turning his shoulder to press against the wound, the man's hand trapped underneath it. It earned him a hiss of pain but he kept still, wide eyes meeting Altair's in the dark.

 

Only when he was sure Alain wouldn't struggle he slowly let go of his hold, his hidden blade ready to end his life should he make a wrong move. Alain's breath brushed over his face, smelling like vomit and cheap wine and Altair breathed through his mouth. “ _Pourquoi tout ça,_ blasphémateur _?_ ”, he snarled at him, eyes narrowed and face painted with pure agony as he watched Altair. 

 

Altair's hand moved quickly, his fist meeting Alain's stomach, sending him toppling over and causing him to empty his stomach in front of Altair's feet again. Undigested pieces of bread clung to his lips as he looked up again, the muscle in his cheek twitching. “ _Tu pousses un peu!_ ”

 

“Stop insulting me and I will”, Altair told him in a low voice, pulling the man by his collar and manhandling him deeper into the shadows, pushing him in front of his body and kicking his legs so he fell to his knees, looking up at Altair. “What I want is information. Whatever it is you can tell me might be worthy enough for me to spare your life. Now...”, and he held his hand close to Alain's throat, his hidden blade jumping forwards almost touching his vulnerable skin. “Your cousin. Tell me about him.”

 

Alain looked up at him dumbfounded before his lips pulled back into an ugly grin. “My cousin?”, he slurred, his arm hanging useless to the side of his body as it pained him too much to move his limb with the puncture wound in his shoulder. “If- if you have business with my c- c- cousin I suggest you talk with _him_ not me.”

 

“Tell me where I can find him and I shall follow your proposal.” 

 

Alain shook his head, a low chuckle crawling up his throat and spilling over his lips in an empty breath. “If that's what you want you're wasting your time, assassin. I'd rather die than telling you his whereabouts.” 

 

Altair narrowed his eyes at him, adding more pressure to his hold and the man winced with pain. “You'd rather die for a man who fucked your wife and killed your child?”, he asked in disbelieve. “What a pathetic fool you are”, he snarled. “Do you have no honor at all?” Of course he didn't have honor and Altair cocked one eyebrow at him. He thought a man with honor wouldn't spent his money on women and alcohol and emptying his stomach in the middle of the street for everybody to see. A man with honor would keep his head up with pride. 

 

Alain spit to his feet, a mix of bread and blood landing right in front of Altair's boots. “You have no idea what you're talking about boy”, he muttered. He grinned empty and hollow. “You're not equal to Robert. You're chasing a monster and talk about honor. If you're a man of honor yourself you can't beat him. You two don't play the same game.” 

 

Altair's gaze washed over Alain's face, his head tilted to one side as he mused over his words, turning them this way and that way in his head, trying to find the connecting pieces until the picture would be whole. There were still too many missing parts and he brought his blade closer to his throat, nicking the first layer of skin. “Robert has been traveling forth and back between Egypt, England and France, the Order is moving underneath his commands. Why? What's he looking for?”

 

Alain looked up at him with glassy eyes, his look distant. “He's looking for heaven”, he slurred and he was moving with speed Altair hadn't thought to be possible in his current physical state. He ducked underneath Altair's blade and yanked up his arm, his elbow meeting Altair's wrist and he was on his feet within a second. The sudden movement was something he hadn't expected and it was enough for Altair to lose his focus for the smallest of moments as Alain kicked at his legs, sending him stumbling backwards. His fist connected with the assassin's jaw, sending his head flying the other direction and made Altair see stars. Out of the corner of his eye Altair could watch a silver shadow piercing through the darkness and he jumped back, the small digger missing his throat by mere millimeters. He didn't have enough time to gather himself as Alain was jumping onto him and he fell back onto the ground, his back and head hitting the stone. He was dizzy and felt the cold steel of the weapon pressed to his throat. 

 

He watched Alain's face hovering above his own through a thick fog, his vision blurring. The man leaned his head to one side, a mocking smile standing on his lips. “Never underestimate your enemy boy”, he smiled down on him, his words not sluggish at all but perfectly clear. “You think I don't know you're chasing me? You think I haven't heard about the man in White looking for me?” He spit down on him, the bloody saliva running down his cheek and Altair glared at him with angry eyes, gritting his teeth. “I'm Alain de Sablé you fucking _salope._ Just as my cousin I'm a member of the Templar Order too and I won't let some stray tell me what I have to do. One day, you're arrogance will be your downfall.” Alain leaned in closer, Altair's eyes almost crossing with how close they were and all he could see was that ugly grin of the man above him. He tried to kick at him to hit him in the back with his knee but Alain just shifted his weight, avoiding easily his attempt to throw him of. He withdrew the dagger from his throat, the tip of the blade trailing down his chest and across his stomach and stopped just above his crotch. “Move again and I castrate you like the dog you are.” Blood was spilling down on Altair from the wound of Alain's shoulder, staining the man's wrist in which he held the small blade, making the hilt slippery. “You think I hold some grudge against my cousin for fucking my cheating wife and killing that bastard child of her?” His grin only widened. “I was there, watching them and I loved the look on her face when I punished her for her trying to make me believe it was my seed which filled her womb. I bet your informant didn't tell you I slit her throat, did he?” And fuck, no that was new information for him and Altair tried to remember he would sought out the man and make him pay dearly for his mistake of not telling him everything. “Your little plan didn't work... I won't tell you a thing.”

 

Altair shifted his weight underneath him, his shoulder rolling from where Alain's hand was pressed against it, sending a wave of pain up his arm and to his wounded shoulder. It was enough for the man to lose his focus and Altair grabbed his wrist, the dagger falling from his fingers and Altair connected his forehead with Alain's, sending him falling backwards and twisted his arm behind his back. He managed to get the upper hand again, straddling his hips and his hidden blade pierced the skin of his throat, entering deep. Everything was so fast that Alain could just stare at him with wide eyes, disbelieve written all over his face. The world turned gray, the fog swallowing Altair and Alain and made him forget everything around them. “It seems you forgot who you're speaking with”, he muttered in a deep hoarse voice, breathing heavily. 

 

Alain was dying. 

 

It was only a question of time for how long it would take for him to bleed to death but Altair only had a few more minutes left until his heart would stop beating. “This is your chance to come off clear with all your sins. Tell me what I need to know and meet your god with a chaste soul.” 

 

Alain wheezed underneath him, blood slowly entering his lungs making him suffocate. “No god can save me”, he whispered and Altair had to lean closer in order to understand him. It seemed his blade had nicked his vocal chords as well, making it difficult for the Frenchman to speak. “It's too late... we're almost there. Robert found the location of it. Soon he will hold Heaven in his hands.” Alain's eyes rolled back and he closed them, taking a deep shuddering breath but he made a gargling noise and a stream of blood spilled over his lips and down his throat. He cracked his eyes open once more. 

 

“You're speaking in riddles”, Altair snarled angry at him. “What did he find and where? I will end your misery if you tell me.”

 

But Alain only laughed at him, at least he tried as it was just a breath escaping his throat. “Robert's with JHWH...” His eyes rolled back once more and his breathing became more short and turned erratic. 

 

“No...”, Altair said slowly and shook his head. “JHWH is where I'm going to send you now” He looked down on him, one eyebrow arched. He brought his blade close to Alain's throat once more and pushed forward, his life ending within half a second. Altair pulled out a feather from one of his pouches, pulling it through the man's blood, the white turning red as the feather was dripping with it. He stood up, hovering over the corpse and as he looked down on him he knew what he had to do as they pieces of his words finally made sense. 


	11. Chapter 11

This wasn't love, this wasn't sex – he was fucking her, that's all. No more, no less. No emotions involved, he didn't care for her and he fucked her just like that using her body for one purpose and one purpose only, to satisfy his needs. He didn't aim for her pleasure, didn't care if she liked what he did. She was either a good actor or she really was enjoying his rough touches, the fingers wrapped around her neck when he pressed her face into the mattress as she was on her knees and he thrust into her almost violently. He didn't like watching their faces, never did. He couldn't stand it when he saw their eyes, couldn't stand it when they tried to kiss him. Kisses were for lovers, not for whores. She met his thrusts and pushed her hips backwards as he moved in and out of her, her moans filling the room while he hardly made a sound at all. Skin slapping against skin, wet bodies touching, nails raking over limbs, scratching, biting, searching. 

 

In the end he didn't come, pulling out of her and kneeling for a few more moments behind her naked form, breathing heavily and running his fingers through sweat soaked hair. She turned around, her cheek still pressed against the mattress, eying him and her gaze almost burnt him. “What's wrong?”

 

He looked at her, his lips moving but no sound came. He got off the bed, reaching for his clothes and got dressed quickly. “What's wrong?”, she asked again, her voice rising with confusion and she sat up, pulling her knees underneath her body, wrapping the blanket around her body to hide from his sight. Altair would have almost scoffed. He looked at her, cold eyes burning into hers and he reached for the small pouch on his belt, placing a few coins on the small table right next to the door. It was enough money to pay for the whole night. She called after him but he didn't pay her any attention at all as he made his way through the brothel and out onto the streets of Paris. 

 

Altair wiped his face, his hood up shielding him from curious eyes and turning him into a faceless shadow. He'd no idea why he went there, why he sought a woman's warm touch. Sex wasn't even that important to him, in all honesty it often rather bored him. It was a physical need which was necessary every now and then but nothing he truly enjoyed. Most of the times he tried to ignore it, knew no good would come of it ever since-

 

No. None of that. No thoughts about him. It was neither the right time nor the right place to think about it. He was on a mission, his master counting on him – he wouldn't disappoint Al Mualim, wouldn't let himself get distracted any further. It was bad enough he'd visited a brothel, in the end it only felt degrading.

 

Altair returned to the small room he currently stayed at, renting it for small money right above the small shop of a blacksmith. It was late the night and he would depart tomorrow morning and return to Masyaf to deliver the news.

 

When he opened the door Altair knew instantly something was off and he scanned the chamber, his eyes soon falling on a figure sitting on his bed. He felt for his throwing knives, about to pull one small dagger out and aiming for the person sitting there but it wasn't the blade that cut through the silence, but the figure's smooth velvet voice. “That's no way to greet old friends.” Altair still throw his knife and it hit the mattress right next to the man's thigh but he chuckled unimpressed. 

 

“No, it's my way of greeting _you_ ”, Altair muttered and walked through the dark room, reaching for an lamp and lit it, the oil burning quickly His face was instantly illuminated by a soft glowing orange, the flame trembling and creating flickering shadows across the walls. The bed creaked when he moved, getting off and walking towards the young assassin, hand laying on Altair's shoulder to turn him around. “You lack some manners then”, he muttered, eyes roaming over his face and he cupped his jaw, his thumb brushing over Altair's scar. “I should teach you some”, he added as he leaned towards, closing the distance between them and consuming Altair's mouth with a kiss.

 

He punched him in the guts and the man groaned, stumbling backwards and rubbing his palm over his stomach. “You don't touch me like that”, Altair told him and his fingers got already busy to remove his chestplate. Another of his chuckles filled the room and he sat back on the bed, leaning heavily on his elbows as he watched Altair removing his belt and red sash, folding the latter neatly and placing it on top of the armor which now lay on the table. “No”, he said nonchalantly and waved his hand, “I just fuck you.”

 

“You missed me Saleh?” Altair stared at him, his robes gaping and revealing a flat stomach with a soft trail of hair leading from his navel further down and underneath the waistband of his trousers. 

 

“I missed your mouth around my cock.” 

 

“Can you even get it up old man?” Saleh looked at him, lips pressed tightly together. It wasn't like Altair said something which wasn't true. Saleh _was_ old, could be his father actually, his hair already turning gray and looked just as silver as the moon's light. It was a sight he'd rather forget. Saleh snorted at him and rolled his head from one side to the other, the ordinary clothes of nothing but a man seeming strange on his body. 

 

“How long has it been now boy? Three years? Four?”

 

“Five”, Altair said unimpressed, sitting down on the chair to remove his boots and he groaned when his feet were finally free as they hurt from the day. He leaned back and eyed Saleh skeptical. “So how come you are here?”, Altair asked, his whole body radiating distress. He didn't want him here, he didn't want to see Saleh's face, didn't want to waste his energy speaking with an outcast. Somebody who waited for Al Mualim's heart to turn soft again to welcome him back into the Order – they both knew no such thing would ever happen as Saleh was forced to live in exile with no chance to ever return. Still, he clung on to that hope and maybe that was his way of staying sane – so who was Altair to judge? 

 

Saleh just smirked and lowered his head, eyes hidden from Altair's sight. “I count nine fingers. So you've finally achieved your blade. You father would be proud”, and Altair gritted his teeth, hating it with all his guts whenever he was talking about his father, bringing his ghost back from the dead to the living. “But it seems you still lack an assassin's ability when it comes to going unnoticed. There were rumors filling the lands, Altair, rumors about a white ghost leaving a trail of blood behind. I followed your trail and look who I found? The boy I turned into a man. I'd call it destiny wouldn't you agree?”

 

“I'd call it misfortune.”

 

Saleh sighed and placed one hand to his chest, falling onto the mattress with his back first and staring up the ceiling. “Uhg, I'm hurt boy, I'm deeply hurt.” He looked at him again, propping himself up using one of his elbows. “What is it with you? Normally you would have been already on your knees sucking my dick and yet you're still sitting there with too much clothes on. That needs to change.”

 

Altair just shook his head, swallowing every threat down which was about to leave his lips and roll over his tongue. “Just... go Saleh. Go wherever you came from. Whatever it is you're seeking I assure you it's not here”, he sighed and wiped his face with one hand, peering at the older man through his fingers. Saleh's eyes grew cold and distant and his face wrinkled up as he sat and looked at Altair. “Ah”, he said and licked across his lips, rubbing the back of his head, “you see I'm very disappointed.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

Saleh slowly turned to Altair and straightened his back, making it even more visible that he was at least two heads bigger than the young assassin. “After all I've done for you and after we finally meet each other again I thought I would get a warmer welcoming and not getting kicked out”, he stood up walking towards Altair. His muscles tensed and his fingers curled into a fist when he craned his neck to look up at Saleh in order to meet his eyes. If it was needed he would defend himself, if it was needed Altair was ready to kill, no matter if old friend or not. Saleh placed one hand onto the small table behind him, leaning down to Altair. “It seems you've forgotten why I'm here. It would have needed nothing more but a word and it'd be you in my position, cast out like a lousy dog. And why not? Because I made a promise to your father”, he whispered, foul breath crawling over his skin as the man leaned into him, his lips almost touching his ear. 

 

“I'm not sixteen anymore”, he said but his voice sounded uneven and breathless, his heart beating wildly. He shouldn't feel like this and Altair felt disgusted with himself. “I'm not the boy I used to be, easy to manipulate and following your orders.” 

 

“No you're not sixteen anymore”, and Altair could feel how his lips pulled into a grin against his ear. “But you still are the boy easy to manipulate. The only thing that changed is that it isn't me anymore fucking you but that Master of yours, fucking with your mind and playing you like a little puppet and you're sitting here, too arrogant and blinded by the Order's lies to see the truth.” 

 

It was then he snapped, pushing Saleh away and sending the man stumbling backwards, standing up fast so the chair lost its balance and hit the ground. “It's time for you to leave”, he breathed through clenched teeth, eyes narrowed to small slits, chest heaving with unresolved anger. 

 

“Indeed it is”, Saleh nodded as he rubbed his chin, looking Altair up and down. “It's truly a shame then, you've had all the potential but you decided to throw it all away. I thought you were your father's son but it seems you're nothing more but one of Al Mualim's sheep.” Saleh snorted and made his way towards the door, his hand already reaching for it. He stopped right next to Altair though, his fingers touching the handle but he didn't pull the door open yet. “Al Mualim caught me fucking you and I was the one sent away into exile, yet you were allowed to stay. Ever wondered why?”

 

“Out”, he snarled, staring at Saleh from the corner of his eye. The old man nodded. “I see”, Saleh said and smirked. “You _do_ know then.”

 

He stepped out of the room and the door fell shut behind him and Altair stood there, watching his world burn with chaos. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are people even reading still? I'm not quite sure if I should continue this or if it just sucks and nobody wants to tell me.

 

It's been two weeks now since he'd killed Alain and it was the third morning after his encounter with Saleh when Altair stood out in the open right in the middle of a busy street, Paris' citizens getting ready to greet a new day. He rubbed his chin and pulled the hood covering his head deep into his face, sinking back into the shadows, feeling more comfortable like this when he couldn't feel the eyes of those around him anymore. The sun had just risen and didn't manage yet to crawl up and over the houses, the shadows still large and air cold. His ship would leave in five days and he still had to ride all across France to get to Marseille. There was only one more thing to do...

 

He pushed people to their sides as he forced his way through the crowd, walking through dirt, shit and piss and needed to make a b-line in order to avoid getting hit by piss thrown out a window. The smell was unbelievable and he got once more reminded of why he'd never liked Paris. It was filthy, its citizens sick and there were rats everywhere. Altair just simply hated rats and one or two of his Brothers might even dare to say he was terrified of them but those would lose their tongue quickly if Altair was ever to witness to hear such thing. His boots and pants were covered by mud and something he didn't want to think about once he reached the market place. A rather large crowd had already gathered there, people cheering and screaming as the hangman was already up on the platform, ropes ready for their use. Altair made his way towards until he'd almost reached the first row. There were children held by their parents, sitting on their fathers shoulders or on their mothers hips, happy and eager to see a few men and women lose their lives today. Altair himself just stood there, a solid rock in the middle of a sea of madness, face hidden and eyes emotionless as he waited for the spectacle to begin. Guards were walking up the platform and the crowd started to move, people pushing forwards in large waves as their cheers and screams got louder. 

 

Altair's fingers twitched when he saw several men and women lead onto the stage, cuffed and tied together. He counted nine of them, four women, five men and they all stopped underneath the ropes waiting for the hangman to put them around their necks, their faces dirty and some of them had tracks of tears on their cheeks, others had been clearly tortured. Their crimes were read to the cheering people, the noose pulled tight. He did no longer hear the people around him, did no longer see the laughing children. The world stopped turning while he focused completely on his target, his finger activating the mechanism of his hidden blade. He heard his pulse beating loudly inside his ears, his blood rushing through his veins and carrying adrenaline. Colors faded into gray and Altair stepped towards, pushing men and women aside but he didn't hear their insults, didn't feel their hands on his back as they shoved him. 

 

He was the one, Altair's eyes set on him and for the first time ever since he'd killed his first target, his hand was shaking. He saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes, the hangman pulling the trigger and the trapdoors opened underneath the prisoners feet, their bodies falling and the ropes were pulled taut. Altair leaned forward, his hand moving, finger twitching again and his blade retract, hidden underneath the leather once more as he stood there, watching them struggle. Only two have been lucky enough to die through their fall. The other ones were slowly suffocating. Altair watched the man struggling, his face turning red then blue and his legs were kicking empty air. He was the one and he didn't feel pity at all, he didn't feel anything and yet he trembled like a leaf in the wind and only when none of the prisoners were moving anymore, he turned away swallowed by the crowd and forgotten in the shadows.

 

 

“Who was he?” Lucy looked up at Vidic, sitting next to the man's lifeless body trapped inside the Animus. 

 

“There's a memory missing”, the man muttered and Lucy turned to watch Altair, feeling pity as she saw him like that, his wrists raw since they'd been strapped to the machine for so long now. Her eyes fell back on the old man and all she saw was the side of his face, the screen of his computer reflecting in his glasses as his fingers flew across the keyboard. She wondered if there'd be one to stop him one day. She wondered what had happened to the woman send by the Order to spy on Templars only to become one of them. She wondered what had happened to herself. 

 

“How can there be one missing?” She slowly stood up and her fingers brushed over Altair's as she walked pass him and stopped next to Vidic. “That's not possible.”

 

“There's one missing”, Vidic growled again and he leaned closer over his screen. “Why would he go there? What does this man have to do with the artifact?” 

 

“Maybe nothing at all”, Lucy told him quietly and she looked back over her shoulder, watching Altair still. It was strange to think that he was a monster. He didn't seem human at all when he was on missions, didn't seem human at all when he took his targets lives and there were moments where she thought he enjoyed _killing_. Moments like the one she just witnessed. She had been almost able to feel his satisfaction as he watched the man fighting for his life, had almost been able to feel his blood thirst being stilled. “Maybe it's about something which comes after the execution. Why don't we see?” Lucy sat back on her chair and rolled over to Altair's side once more. “He knows where it is, Alain told him that much.” 

 

Now Vidic turned his head and Lucy saw her own reflection in his glasses. “Why's that? If I recall correctly Alain hardly told him anything.”

 

“He knows. Alain told him enough for Altair to put the pieces together. He knows where it is, he's going back to Masyaf. Why else would he do that if he didn't know?” 

 

Vidic opened his mouth for a reply but he kept silent when there was a small groan and the rustle of moving fabric filling the room. “Is he... waking up?”, Vidic pondered and his eyes narrowed at Lucy, lips pressed to a thin white line, face dark. “How can he wake up?”

 

Lucy quickly made her way towards Vidic's screen, her eyes watching the numbers running across it. “He's not... not really”, she said and her voice sounded pressed, “he's still inside the memory but”, and she looked over her shoulder once more, her eyes scanning Altair's frame, “but it looks like his body is waking up. Shit. This is exactly what I tried you to warn about”, she hissed. 

 

Vidic followed her, stopping by her side. “What does this mean?”

 

Lucy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Vidic liked to talk about the Animus as if it was his baby, but he knew surprisingly less about it. “It means”, Lucy forced out between clenched teeth, “he's going to wake up and believe he's still in medieval France.”

 

“Like the Bleeding Effect?”

 

“Not _effect_. He's _Bleeding_ ”, Lucy explained. “I told you his old personality is going to get erased if you wanna go through with this. We're soon going to have a pretty pissed 11th century assassin.”

 

“Ah.” Vidic didn't seem as stressed as Lucy. “Well I expected that. Drug him, keep him unconscious and keep him in the Animus. We don't need him anymore after we're done.”

 

Lucy's head snapped around and she stared at Vidic. “You want to _kill_ him?” She was outraged. Vidic was an _idiot_. Killing Altair was like throwing the artifact into the ocean. He was _precious_. He was important, he was like the 8th wonder of the world. Did Vidic not know that? “He's not like the previous subjects, Sir. He's not replaceable. He actually _is_ Altair.”

 

“I know pretty well who he is Ms. Stillman, thank you very much”, and now his voice grew cold again and it reminded Lucy once more of what he was capable of, what she had witnessed him doing. It made her blood grew cold. Vidic smiled at her and it made her want to rip off his face. “We still have the other one, don't we?”

 

Lucy blinked, her rage ebbing away like the tide. “But- we can't work with him”, she stuttered.

 

Vidic sighed. “No but we can still use him”, and he talked about them as if they were nothing but cattle. He pursed his lips and they broke into a smile just a second later. “You know...”, he said and his voice was as soft as if he was speaking to a small child. “Bring him down her. Let Altair wake up. Let him see we have him.” He paused for a moment and then turned towards Lucy fully. “This was the plan all along wasn't it?”

 

She took a deep breath of air, her head hanging low between her shoulders with hair falling into her eyes.“There's only one thing”, she murmured, meeting Vidic's eyes and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, standing between him and Altair. “How do you control a monster?”

 

 

xxx

 

 

He had no idea where he was. He had no idea what time it was. The room was dark and cold and Malik was cuffed to a chair, his wrists raw by now and his back ached terrible while his legs hurt from cramps. He could hardly remember anything, he just kept falling in and out of unconsciousness. When the door opened he startled, eyes narrowed as light fell into the small room, blinding him. Feet moved over the ground and Malik heard the rattling of metal, the sound of guns being carried. 

 

“Up you go”, came the voice and tears were running down his cheeks, the light hurting his eyes since he hadn't seen it for so long now and his hands became loose, fingers curling around his shoulder and pulling him upwards. “He wants to see you now”, they whispered into his ear and before he was even able to move his hands, they were pulled behind his back once more and Malik was tied up again. It wasn't like as if he couldn't fight – he could. But right now he was too confused as if he could act and maybe it was because he hasn't been active for the last five years, maybe he'd gotten lazy. He didn't know what it was that held him back and made them follow. Maybe curiosity. He just wanted to know what the hell was going on, he just wanted to make it out of this with no harm. His vision returned slowly, two guards walking by his sides, framing him and pushing him down a long, barely lit hall. The walls were gray, the light flickering and shining down on him from old fluorescent tubes. Malik watched the guards from the corner of his eyes and there seemed something odd about them, something off as if the picture wasn't right. The back of his head was tingling, the hair on his arms standing to end and Malik felt cold, the sick feeling of something bad about to happen engulfing him like thick, tough honey, sticking on to him and not letting go. 

 

They reached an elevator and the doors opened, Malik and both guards stepping inside. He couldn't tell if they were going up or down, the elevator hardly making a sound at all and he could barely feel it moving. It took a few more turns, more halls they were walking down until they finally reached their destination and Malik was brought into a rather large room, empty expect for a desk with a computer on it and something that looked like a... solarium cabin? Seriously?

 

They stopped a few feet short of a man and a woman, the both of them wearing white coats. She wore her hair in a high bun and he thought it made her look older than she probably was. She eyed him uncertain and he could tell she was fucking nervous while the man just stood there, arms crossed behind his back wearing a huge -probably faked- smile, gray hair and glasses riding low his nose. The guards didn't leave but stood slightly behind him, their hands on their guns and Malik gulped audibly. Only now did he see that there was a second man laying and it was-

 

Him.

 

“Altair”, Malik whispered, his lips barely moving but the man heard him, his smile even widening. “Mr. al-Sayf”, he greeted him, arms spread to each side of his body in a welcoming gesture. The woman -and Malik could barely call her that because she looked like a frightened teenager at the moment- picked up a folder, skipping through it and pretending to read the papers inside. 

 

“I'm Dr. Vidic.”

 

Malik's head snapped up and his eyes were set onto him. He recognized that voice. “It's you”, he muttered, his voice growing deeper, fingers curling into a tight fist and he gritted his teeth. “It's you”, he snarled again, wanting to take a step forwards but one of the guards simply put his hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Malik didn't try to go further as the man stroke with his thumb over his gun. 

 

“Of course it's me”, Vidic smiled and he beckoned Malik forwards. “Come on... don't be shy. I trust you to not doing anything stupid, yes?” No he wouldn't – Malik knew though he was good, he was really good when it came to fighting, hell, he'd been on two tours to Iraq, he _knew_ how to fight! But he also knew when it was better to keep low and right now it seemed to be the better choice to just do what he were told.

 

“No I won't”, he said and held his chin up high, his back straightening while he put his arms behind his back. Just show these fuckers he wasn't intimated by them. 

 

“Good, good”, Vidic nodded. He gestured behind him, pointing at the strange looking table with the man trapped inside. “You remember him then, I take it? I think I just heard you say his name...” Malik followed his gesture, his eyes roaming over the body and his gaze stopped at his hands. He counted ten fingers and that didn't seem to be right. 

 

“I- I think”, he muttered softly and maybe it was wrong even answering him but Malik didn't understand anything of this and he just wanted answers – maybe the best way to get them was to pretend. “His name”, Malik looked up at Vidic, “his name is Altair.” 

 

Vidic's smile grew cruel and the woman stood up behind him, eying Malik over the Doctor's shoulder. She stepped closer still, leaning towards his ear. “He's going to wake soon”, she whispered and yet Malik could understand her words very well. “He's going to think he's still in France.”

 

Vidic nodded and while she seemed to be at the brink of a meltdown, he wasn't worried at all. “Good”, he nodded. “Let me show you how to control a monster, Ms. Stillman. Mr. al-Sayf?” Vidic rose his chin and his eyes bore into Malik's. “Do you believe in reincarnation?” 


	13. Chapter 13

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Malik snorted at Vidic, his face twisted in a mask of disbelieve. Vidic beckoned at him, inviting him to come closer but Malik refused. Disgust settled like thick liquid metal in his stomach, hot and burning him from the inside. He watched the woman, Stillman, walking around the table and crouching down next to the man's side, her fingers brushing over his bound wrists in an almost loving gesture. The sight sickened him and his anger grew as he watched her touching him like something close to a lover and he knew it wasn't right, wasn't right for her to touch him like that as she held no right when she did so much wrong to him. 

 

“You know this man, don't you?” Vidic smiled at him and Malik shook his head, his chest heaving underneath rising rage. “You know his name and you remember his face, but you just don't know why.” It made Malik realize just how sick the man really was for believing Malik already had lived a life, reincarnated a few hundred years later only for fate to come back crushing down on him, finishing something which started in the late 11th century. He laughed at Vidic, dry and short like the bark of a dog. “'course I know him. Met him on my way back home the other day. He's just another face I meet when riding the train”, he told him nonchalantly though he could tell Vidic looked right through his act. His words had made sense in a strange way but he yet refused to believe them. 

 

“Sir, he's-”

 

“Let him”, Vidic cut through Stillman's words. “Mr. al-Sayf here will tell him that everything is alright. He will tell him that he's working for us. Isn't that correct?”, he smiled at Malik and it made him just the more angry.

 

“And why would I do that?”

 

Now Vidic shook his head in a manner of pity. “Because we'll kill him otherwise”, he said and the way how his voice sounded made Malik realize he wasn't kidding, wasn't kidding at all. It wasn't all though and he braced himself for what has yet to come. 

 

“You'd kill him?”, he pondered and his eyebrows met the line of his hair. “He's quite valuable, isn't he? And you'd just kill him? I don't think so.”

 

“Ah, aren't you a clever young man”, Vidic chuckled and he walked towards Malik until he was just an arm's length away from him. “We would drug him further, keep him in the Animus for a couple of weeks more, learning what we want to learn and _then_ kill him. He's like a wild dog, Mr. al-Sayf and wild dogs need to be put down.”

 

“So it's just that easy for you? Then what do you need me for?” It sounded like as if they would get whatever they wanted no matter what Malik would or wouldn't do so... Vidic keeping him here didn't make sense at all. 

 

“No”, Vidic smiled still and Malik knew he walked right into his trap. “You're right, we don't need you for that and it would be indeed a pity to kill somebody as talented and skilled as him. You're going to tame him of course”, he concluded.

 

“What you did is called kidnapping”, Malik told him in a low voice while his eyes narrowed. “You have no right keeping me here, you have no right doing... _that_ to him _him_.” He gestured towards Altair and Stillman. 

 

Altair groaned again and he pulled at his bindings, Stillman's fingers flying over his wrists to untie him. Maybe she was suicidal for doing so. 

 

“No, what I did is called necessary for saving what's left of this pitiful world. _This_ is just the end of a war which should have been over a very long time ago.” 

 

“He's waking-”, she started but Vidic lifted his hand, hushing her. “There's not much time left, Mr. al-Sayf. I'm afraid you have no real saying in this anyway”, and now Vidic was finally cutting to the chase. 

 

Malik saw the movement from the corner of his eyes before he heard Stillman's surprised gasp. Altair's hands moved, fingers curling around the woman's wrist as he reached for her before his eyes flew open. She watched in horror while Vidic smiled still, walking around the desk and opening a drawer. He pulled something out which looked like a gun but Malik knew it didn't held deadly bullets as it was a tranquilizer gun. So he was prepared after all.

 

“This could get ugly”, Vidic told him and his smile didn't fit the situation at all as Altair woke. Within the blink of an eye he was up and jumping off the table, pulling the woman down to the ground with him. He knelt there for a whole of two seconds, eyes dilated and blown wide searching the room and his gaze settled on Malik before it flickered over to Vidic. “Easy there”, the Doctor told him as if he was talking to a wild animal and maybe Altair really was. He kept staring at Vidic while the woman slowly came back to life, pushing herself off the ground and crawling away from Altair, seeking cover behind the table as she probably knew better what would happen within the next seconds. Maybe she wasn't suicidal after all. 

 

Vidic took small steps closer to Altair, aiming the gun at him. “Now... this must seem very confusing but I believe your friend here will explain everything. Isn't that right Mr. al-Sayf?” His voice was bitter sweet, like venom eating its way through Malik's veins right down to his bones. Altair snarled at him, gritting his teeth and Vidic was almost close enough to reach for him. It was the moment Malik stepped into action, acting on instincts not knowing why the words came to his mind he was about to say. He didn't want him to do anything stupid, thought it was better for him to first understand what was going on. They could figure a way out of this mess later but he feared if Altair would act like the trapped animal he currently was it would end in his doom.

 

“Safety and peace, Brother”, he said slowly, his hand coming up and he held it in front of his body and Altair blinked, some of the confusion inside his eyes melting.

 

“That's right boy”, Vidic whispered and licked over his lips, walking closer still. “Everything's alright-”

 

Altair shot up, his shoulder meeting Vidic's outstretched arm, the gun falling from his fingers and landing in a loud clatter on the ground. His forehead met Vidic's, knocking him down within a second and Altair was crossing the small distance separating him from Malik with long steps, almost throwing him to the ground when he pulled Malik behind the desk, crouching down and seeking cover as they heard Stillman cursing, shifting and reaching for the gun. There was blood on Altair's brow and Malik peered up from the desk, watching Vidic laying on the ground with blood coming from his nose. He saw the woman's blond hair sticking out from behind the table when she was taking cover.

 

“ _What is this?”_ , Altair whispered with his back pressed against the furniture, his fingers curled tightly around Malik's bicep and he sounded breathless. He was speaking Arabic, old, ancient Arabic of which Malik hardly understood a word. He hadn't spoken it for too long and the accent was thick. 

 

“ _What's going on?”,_ Altair roared and Malik just looked at him, witnessing the madness unleashed, whirling in dark clouds behind Altair's eyes. _“Malik! Novice!”_

 

It was the lost key setting things back into motion. Malik blinked and old faded memories returned in bright colors, long lost ghosts hunting him, taunting him. A lost arm, brother, title... Altair, the bitter taste of betrayal making him almost gag. He remembered an old church, a market place and the sharp pain of steel cutting through his finger, screams piercing his soul and pain collapsing over his body like a wave, dark eyes forcing their way into his vision, a face -Abbas- the last he saw before the blade came rushing down, cutting through skin, muscles and bones -

 

Malik gasped as if he was drowning, finally breaking through the surface of thick black memories, taking deep inhales of much needed air. “Templars”, he whispered at Altair and he felt another personality inside of him, fingers pushing against his mind trying to throw him down in order to take over. Malik resisted and held his place, fighting to stay in charge. He watched panic crawling over Altair's face before it was replaced by something else, by something much more frightening, terrifying. Altair searched his eyes and held Malik's gaze, his fingers squeezing the man's arm as grim determination settled in, bringing calmness as well. Apparently Altair had understood the word and he knew Malik's face, remembered _him_ and while he didn't understand what the fuck was going on at least the looked into the familiar eyes of the man he trusted with his life. 

 

“ _We're going._ Now _”_ , Altair told him and he looked upwards, Malik following his gaze and he saw the small opening in the ceiling Altair was looking at, nodding. 

 

“Mr. al-Sayf, please!” It was the woman and he heard her fumbling with the gun, re-loading it. “They won't let you leave just,... please, let me explain?” 

 

Malik placed his arm over Altair's chest, holding him back and pushing him down to the ground again. He locked his eyes with Altair's telling him in a silent way to just wait a few seconds longer. When none of them answered, when none of them moved, she kept on going.

 

“It's true what Dr. Vidic said, you are your ancestor's reincarnation, you are _him_. Just like Altair. Altair was inside the Animus, his memories of his time as an assassin got triggered and erased the ones he has from his modern life. He probably won't remember anything of this world and it will leave him very confused, making him a _very_ dangerous man. Your own memories, Mr. al-Sayf, will return soon and you will see all of this is going to make some sort of strange sense. There's no need to fight, please. You can't make it out by your own, but you can make it out when you let me help you.”

 

Altair tried to get up again but Malik held him back once more and stood up himself. He felt Altair's eyes burning into his back, hot rage radiating in waves off his body. _“You fool! She's tricking us, don't you see?”_

 

Malik slowly turned towards her, saw her crouching behind the table with her back pressed against it and the gun tight in her hands. “You want to help us?”, he asked her softly and she turned her head, her eyes meeting Malik's. She nodded.

 

“My name's Lucy Stillman. I'm working undercover, I'm no Templar.” 

 

Malik's shoulders tensed. “I don't believe you one word”, he said as he watched her slowly standing up, the gun loosely between her fingers now, pointing down to the ground.

 

“I can understand, I don't judge you. But you don't have a chance in hell without me. You can't trust me but you also don't have a choice here.” Vidic groaned to her feet, his leg twitching and Lucy's eyes bore back into Malik's when she looked up again. “I can show you the way out”, she told him, her look hard and determined. 

 

Altair's fingers found Malik's wrist and he pulled him slightly down, his lips close to his ear. “ _Don't trust her_ ”, he hissed, “ _she's one of_ them.” 

 

“I don't”, Malik told him as he looked down on Altair, “but she's right”, and he pulled his arm free from his grasp. He nodded at her. “Alright. We'll go with you.”

 

“ _Malik!_ ”, Altair hissed again but Malik ignored him and instead whirled him back to his feet by grabbing him underneath the arm. He stood close to Altair, their eyes almost on the same level. “You don't trust her, alright, but you trust _me_ ”, he told him through gritted teeth. “And I say we go with her.” He turned towards Lucy again. 

 

“Let's go.” 

 

 

xxx

 

 

“Alright”, Lucy told them once they reached the end of the tunnel they've been followingthe last ten minutes and her voice was low. They were in the basement of the building, in the maintenance tunnels, big tubes hanging low from the ceiling and the air was hot and moist. “This is it. Go through that door and you're on your own... I can only point you in the right direction but my fate's sealed with Abstergos Industries.” She handed Malik a small cell phone. “I will contact you in three days. I hope you two are smart enough to get as far away as possible. I won't be able to distract them longer than that.”

 

Altair stood close by, his hand already pushing down the handle. He hadn't spoken a word ever since Lucy had showed them the way down, making sure to avoid guards as they were making their way out of the building. 

 

Malik nodded, fingers curling around the phone as he put it into his pocket. “Now, go!”, and Lucy pushed between his shoulder blades while Altair was already into motion, opening the door and a second later, they were both out in the open, the sky black with rain pouring down on them, thunder tearing through the sky and they were soon soaked to the bones. 

 

The storm was loud, wind ripping at their clothes and yet Malik felt calm, the rain against his skin making him feel alive again. He took a moment to sort his thoughts, the door falling shut behind him again and it was like as if he'd just stepped into a new life, a new life he knew all too well, a life which future lay unknown in front of him and yet it was familiar, the memories terrifying and comforting at once. It felt like as if he was choking on the events which just happened and he swallowed thickly around the lump forming in his throat. 

 

Altair just stared at him, chest heaving heavily underneath his erratic breaths, his heart beating wildly with blood pumping loudly through his veins. He watched raindrops rolling down Malik's jaw and nose and it took him a moment longer to realize it wasn't rain but tears, his eyes red and puffy and fingers curled into tight fists as he looked at Altair, trembling. Altair took one step forward and started crossing the distance between them, Malik moved as well. 

 

He ducked underneath Malik's fist as he saw it coming, grabbing his wrist and whirling the man around until his back met the cold wall of the alley. It happened within the blink of an eye, Malik snarling at him as he tried to kick him between the legs but Altair just stepped closer, pressing himself with his full body weight against him and kept him in place. He pinned Malik's hand against the wall right next to his head and they both looked at each with intense eyes, staring into each other souls. Malik was trembling as well as Altair, it was cold, heavily raining and they both just barely escaped with their lives, still high on adrenaline. 

 

It was Altair though who moved first. Malik groaning, protesting but Altair swallowed his words as his lips moved over those of the man, kissing him. It'd been too long now, decades, centuries and dear god, a kiss wasn't enough to make up for the lost time. 

 

Malik's hand pushed against Altair's chest, pushed him away and Altair blinked down then looked back up at Malik.

 

“We need to go”, Malik told him, voice raspy and just as cold as the weather. “We need a place to hide.” 

 

“Hide?”, Altair practically mouthed the word and it was the first time he was speaking since Lucy led them out the building. “Like cowards? No.” His English was flawless and it made Malik tumble for one second but he found his balance once more quickly. 

 

“Yes!” Malik shoved at him again, holding one finger up and into Altair's face. “Right now we do have to hide, we can't rush into things. Did you forget everything which happened, did they fuck up your brain? If anything of what Lucy told us is true, you should remember what happened at Solomon's Temple – _you_ of all people should know that no good comes from making rush decisions. We hide. For now.”

 

He shoved Altair aside and made his way down the alley and towards New York's busy streets. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I'm happy with this - didn't turn out how I wanted it to be. They just keep talking so much ^^ ;)

“Take it. He won't need it anymore”, Malik told him and held out the coat for Altair to grab. It was still raining and he only wore thin white pants with a white t-shirt and the fabric was clinging to his body like a second skin by now – not to mention he was freezing and his lips already turned blue from the cold. He nodded slowly and took the dirty fabric, the man Malik had taken it from laying dead in the alley. A homeless, and the coat smelled just like it but Altair didn't mind and just put it around his shoulders. The sleeves were too long just as the rest of it was too big but it did the trick and warmed him at least a little though it was still wet. Malik still wore what he'd been wearing all day, black shoes, business pants and a white shirt with a tie, soaked as well but he wasn't as cold as Altair. 

 

Altair himself felt tired, confused and as if somebody had pulled out his brain and stuffed it upside down back in. He had no idea how much time he'd spent in that machine, didn't know how much they have seen but at least he was free – for now. “They were wrong, weren't they?” Malik stood up again, licking over his lips as rain run down his cheeks, dripping off his nose. 

 

It took Altair a moment to process the words. He had a terrible headache, his throat was dry and he felt dizzy plus his ancient memories were so strong that it was difficult for him to stay in the present. “Wrong about what?”, he asked softly and his voice sounded just as tired as how he really felt. 

 

“About remembering the modern world.” Malik actually smiled a little. “About remembering this time.” 

 

Altair shrugged with his shoulders and pulled the hood up, his face falling into deep shadows. “'course I remember”, he muttered softly, wiping his face with one hand. “I was confused at first though but... yeah I remember”, he sighed and looked at Malik. “I remember everything, I remember everything from jumping down Masyaf's walls to waking up this morning and going to work.” He looked lost for a small moment before he turned his gaze back on Malik who was leaning heavily against a wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. “And what's with you? Did they put you in that... thing as well?”

 

“No”, Malik shook his head. All it really took for him to remember was to hear Altair's voice, to see his face, smell his scent and not just his memories returned but also the forbidden fruits of his desire.... He didn't say it and kept silent instead. He sighed deeply and pushed himself off the wall. “We need to get out of the rain... we need to find a place to stay.”

 

“We leave the city. I know a small motel just outside the city's limits. Looks like shit and I think the only people staying there are rent boys and drug dealers.”

 

Malik nodded and nudged the dead man's leg with his foot.

 

“Check his pockets. Maybe he has some money on him”, Malik noted at the homeless and his nose wrinkled up with mild disgust – the body was already rotting, the foul scent of something sweet and sour invading his nostrils; he'd been probably dead for a couple of days. Altair leaned towards and turned the man around and on his back, feeling inside his pockets. They were empty and he thought for a minute. “Give me his shoes”, Altair nodded at Malik and he crouched down, pulling the boots right off only to let them fall a second later.

 

“Shit, no. You don't want to wear his boots”, he said and Altair looked up and over Malik's shoulder. Oh. Yes, no he didn't want to wear his shoes that seemed to be right. Apparently the man got an infected toe at some point, didn't treat it until it got so bad that maggots were wiggling inside the wound eating their way through his flesh, through bones and skin. “Fuck it”, he said and grabbed the boots, shaking them and reached with his fingers inside, cleaning them out as good as possible. He found something else besides maggots inside them and pulled out the bills he was looking for, putting the money back into his own pockets before he put on the shoes. 

 

“Let's get a cab then”, he told Malik and walked past him, the man following Altair suit and out into the streets. 

 

It didn't take long for them to get a cab to stop – it took by far longer finding someone actually driving them. Altair smelled disgusting and Malik had to breath through his mouth to keep himself from gagging. In the end they finally found somebody, an elderly man, a Russian from how his accent sounded who agreed to drive them for some extra money. Altair just shoved some of the dirty bills into his hands and told him to keep the change. They drove in silence, Altair watching the bright lights from the city rushing by the window, the night the darkest just before dawn. His mind was traveling just as fast as the car was speeding along the streets and it brought him back to Masyaf and Al Mualim, back to his childhood, his real childhood, the memory of his father's death tasting bitter on his tongue, the picture of blood covering the grounds with his head laying next to his body filling his vision. When he looked back down on his hands again he saw the wrecked car of his parents turned over on the Autobahn, the piece of flesh sticking out from beneath the debris, a piece of flesh which had once been a hand. He muttered soft words to himself, humming an old melody he'd thought he'd forgotten. Altair felt Malik's eyes on him, watching him as he sung softly to himself but he ignored the man and closed his eyes instead.

 

They didn't speak a word until they reached the motel, the both of them stepping out of the car. Altair waited as Malik went inside, renting them a room and returning only a few moments later, leading Altair to a door with the number 13 on it. He pushed the key into the lock and the door jumped open, a foul smell greeting them. “Get inside”, Malik urged him and switched on the lights. 

 

Altair sat down on the bed and he really didn't care about the stains on the sheets or the wallpaper coming lose or the fact that the air was really moist and sticky. He thought he heard water running somewhere from behind the walls and looked up when he heard feet shuffling over the floor, Malik sitting down next to him.

 

“This is a dream, isn't it?”, Malik muttered softly and Altair understood all too well. He was confused himself, terrible so. He felt foreign in his own skin, he felt like an invader to his own mind. This was him, Altair, the guy who tried saving money to go back to school, who never stayed for too long at one place because he'd moved so much during his childhood he didn't know how it felt to be at home. This was him, Altair, an assassin who became Grandmaster before the age of thirty, who had watched the woman and man he loved die, killed by the enemy, who'd lost his son to betrayal. He felt miserable when he thought back to his past life, felt miserable at how much sense everything suddenly made. 

 

“It's a nightmare”, Altair answered him and he looked sideways, watching Malik from the corner of his eye. While Malik's presence offered him comfort it also freaked him the fuck out. He slumped a little and leaned close to Malik, his head resting on the man's shoulder. “Just let me sleep”, he told Malik as he knew the man had other plans with him. “No”, Malik shook his head and Altair sighed because he'd known the answer long before. Malik shifted his weight, scooting further away from Altair which caused him to lose his balance and he dropped down onto the bed, his cheek hitting the sheets. They smelled like piss and he shot up again. “Why did you do that?”, he asked Malik, scrunching his nose. 

 

“Don't act like an idiot”, Malik simply told him. “And for god's sake, will you please take off that coat and shoes? I swear I'm going to throw up if you don't.” This – this was the Malik he remembered, the one he grew up in Masyaf with. His tongue and mind sharp, his words like venom. He wondered if Malik felt the same as he did – two minds being crushed together to become one. 

 

Altair groaned heavily and rolled off the bed, standing next to it and felt Malik watching him from the corner of his eye. “Do you still have that cellphone she gave to you?”, he asked him while his fingers worked on the boots, pulling them off his feet and he kicked them away, sending them flying across the small room.

 

Malik scoffed. “I threw it away when we were driving across the Hudson.”

 

Altair hummed in an approving manner, peeling the wet coat off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. “Good... “

 

It was strange how easy it was to fall back into old habits, how easy it was to relish Malik's presence, how easy it was for their minds to click again, for their survival instincts to kick back in. He felt more like the Sleeping Beauty who finally woke up; and yet, it wasn't the same at all. _They_ weren't the same. While so much was just the way it used to be, there was so much more which had changed now and Altair didn't know what to make out of it. He wondered what would happen once the adrenaline wore off when he got the time to think again...

 

“Malik, we need to talk-”

 

“Go shower first”, he interrupted Altair. “I'm not going to talk to you when you smell like a novice who's been hiding in a manure pit for the whole day.” Yepp. Definitely the Malik he once knew. 

 

Altair grumbled a reply and Malik's head shot up. “What was that?” And Altair straightened his back, his fingers gripping the hem of his soaked t-shirt and lifting it up and over his head before he let it drop onto the floor as well. “I said it's nice to see you didn't change at all – or so it seems”, Altair muttered and watched how Malik looked away, the faint traces of a blush standing on his cheeks and his lips broke into a grin. 

 

“Now who's the idiot here?”, Altair pondered and shoved Malik's head playfully as he walked pass him and entered the bathroom. He switched on the lights and it looked just like the rest of their room as if it has not been cleaned in a very long time. Altair chose to oversaw the bathroom's flaws, stripped naked and turned on the water, waiting until it got warm and he stepped inside and underneath the spray. For a moment he just stood there and waited for his body to warm up again, steam rising soon and engulfing him like a comforting blanket. He scrubbed his head and he thought he felt something crawling over his skin – he really didn't want to know what else had been inside that coat. Only when he felt clean again he turned the water off, grabbed a towel and put it around his waist, walking back into the room. Malik still sat on the bed, head hanging low between his shoulders with his hands folded between his thighs. He looked up when he heard Altair walking back inside, his hair still wet from the rain. Altair did a 360 in front of him, showing his body from all sides and held his arms to each side of him. “That's better?”, he pondered with a sly smirk and Malik nodded.

 

“We'll stay for the night – we move again tomorrow”, he concluded with a heavy sigh and slowly stood, rubbing his wet hair as he eyed Altair. None of them spoke for a few moments and it wasn't one of those comfortable silences. Altair grew slowly restless and he caught himself by avoiding Malik's gaze, something he hadn't done in a very long time. It made once more clear in what an unbelievable situation the two of them were. He _knew_ Malik, was familiar with him and still, he could be very well a stranger standing in front of him. He knew nothing about him and yet everything and the thought made his hair stand to end, it made Alair kind of sick to the stomach as it was so very much confusing. 

 

When Altair didn't say anything, Malik opened his mouth again. “What were they looking for?”, he asked Altair, his voice raspy while he pulled his tie from his neck. He narrowed his eyes. “If it's that damn artifact again I hope you made sure for nobody to ever find it again.” 

 

“No”, Altair shook his head, the word soft and just barely above a whisper as Malik's simple question had pulled him right out of his past into the present and back again. “They're looking for the Chalice.” 

 

“The Chalice? But that's-”

 

“Adha”, he whispered and pressed his lips tightly together until they were nothing but a thin white line. Her name felt like a sharp knife, cutting into his guts and piercing through his heart. There hadn't been a day where he hadn't thought about her, but those thoughts he kept to himself, didn't share them with anybody. 

 

“But she- they took her and-”

 

“And nothing. She was lost then, she's lost now, dead for centuries”, Altair told him bitterly.

 

Malik rubbed his face with both hands and looked up the ceiling, sighing again. “You need to explain this. What they did to you, how that thing works you were in.” 

 

It made Altair somehow angry. The way how Malik acted, the way how he chose his words with such accuracy as if he'd never had this modern life. He swallowed it all down. No good would come out of it if he would follow down that path. Altair sat down on a nearby chair and he did tell him, told him everything he knew and told him everything about how he ended up at Abstergo's the first place. His hair was almost dry when he stopped and he looked up at Malik who had hardly moved, just standing there and listening to his words. 

 

“And what were those memories they'd watched?”

 

“The ones before I left for France-”, and at this Malik took a sharp inhale of air, “- and the ones when I was there.” 

 

“Why? What happened there that they would be interested in them?”

 

“It's none of your business”, Altair simply told him. He could tell Malik was hiding something so he didn't see the point in telling him anyway. 

 

“None of my business?” Malik scoffed while Altair walked over to his wet clothes, picking them up and put them over the heater, turning it on so they could dry. “I think it's very well my business. Come on now, novice. Spill it.”

 

Altair fell back into the chair and shook his head. “You don't need to know...” Besides – the less he knew the safer he actually was. 

 

Malik groaned and he walked up and down the small room like a trapped animal. “You are so frustrating Altair. Stubborn as ever.” Malik stopped in front of him and glared down on him. “What else is it you're keeping to yourself?” His eyes narrowed at him and they grew dark and cold, distant maybe. 

 

“I assure you it's nothing, Brother-”

 

“Nothing?” Malik snorted again. “Yes, of course it is.”

 

It was the moment Altair finally lost his patience and he stood, stepping in front of Malik and glaring at him. “It's nothing”, he hissed and closed the gap between them, his chest touching Malik's. He could see his own reflection in Malik's eyes and he thought he saw his history whirling inside of them, showing him the long forgotten key to his past and it made him overcome with his own emotions. He leaned in closer, his hand coming up to rest on Malik's hip and-

 

“Altair, don't. Stop it.” 

 

“Why?”, he muttered but did pull away, licking over his lips. “Why can't we just-”

 

“Because we can't!” Malik glared at him breathless with his fingers clenched to a fist. “Look at you, you're pathetic”, he practically spat the last word. “What about Maria? Did you even think about her?”

 

Altair's eyes narrowed and he held his breath for a whole of two seconds. “Is this how you think about me?”, he asked Malik quietly and his voice was trembling with unleashed anger. “You think I haven't thought about her? You think it's just that easy for me? You think ever since I woke up I haven't thought about my family, about my sons?” Altair snorted but his eyes grew softer and then he sighed. 

 

“All of this- all of this is just a reminder of how much I've failed. How I failed the Order, my sons, my wife – you. I thought I did the right thing back then, I didn't. I've watched my wife die right in front of my eyes, dying through the blade which was meant for me.” Altair laughed bitterly, empty and shallow. “What, you think I'm betraying her? That I betray the woman who died centuries ago? I'm not.” He looked up, meeting Malik's eyes. “She knew.” 

 

“She knew? About what?”

 

“About me.”

 

Malik seemed confused, puzzled. “Explain.”

 

“What's there to explain Malik? Nothing is true. And everything is permitted. Isn't that right?” He smiled bitterly sweet at him. He released a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'm not going to talk about this with you. You didn't want to listen back then, I doubt you're going to listen now.” 

 

When he looked up again he saw something change behind Malik's eyes and for a moment he thought he remembered, he thought Malik knew, would maybe understand. 

 

But maybe his mind was playing tricks on him because Altair watched how Malik turned around wordlessly and closed the door behind as he nearly fled into the bathroom. 

 

He sighed as he heard the water running just a few seconds later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could cry every time I read all of your lovely comments. Thank you so much for your encouragement - this is just unbelievable.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel real insecure about this chapter, I... just have no idea if I like it or not. :-/ But I wanted to get this out.

It was raining outside, still, and they both sat on the chairs standing near the small table next to the mini fridge in their little motel room. Their clothes were wet so they still wore towels around their waists and over their shoulders, the heater running on maximum to warm them up. It was way after midnight by now but Malik, just like Altair, wouldn't be able to find any sleep at all tonight.

 

“What is this Altair?” Malik's head was turned, the light of the street lamp putting his face into deep shadows as he watched outside the window.

 

“It's fate”, he simply told him, his voice rough as he hadn't used it for the last two hours. 

 

There didn't come a reply and Altair spent his time with watching Malik's profile. There'd been memories whirling inside his head for the last few hours, spinning like a black vortex pulling him deeper and deeper into his own history and he'd watched scenes from his past unfold in front of him and it was hard to resist them, it was difficult to not let them consume him. But maybe he was already lost, the past something no man could run from. Ever since he _woke_ there'd been many things which made sense to him now but since life was a bitch and sometimes fucking you, more questions rose and Altair felt like the young boy he once had been after his father's death, confused and maybe even scared as he didn't know what lay ahead of him, his future uncertain. It would be all too easy to just fall back into his old role, pushing people away and focus on what he's best at instead. His life was a puzzle but some of the pieces were still missing and it frustrated him to no end.

 

He reached across the table for Malik's hand but his fingers hovered just inches above them, almost touching and in the end, Altair pulled them away, his hand sitting in his lap. It cost all of his willpower to not touch him though. Malik was the only link he held to his old life and to Altair, it felt like as if Malik was his only anchor to sanity as well. The world, _his world_ , was at chaos and he feared to lose himself into the madness unleashed upon him. Altair sighed and rubbed his face, peeking through the slits of his fingers at Malik before his hands fell back into his lap. “You think it's my doing.” Now it was out in the open and even if Altair wanted to, he couldn't take the words back as they hung heavily in the air between them, thick and ugly. Altair picked at something stuck on the table's surface, some paint chip or something. 

 

“Is it not?” Malik looked up, eyes boring into Altair's and he just hated how distant and cold they were. Maybe even centuries couldn't change Malik and it made him sick to the stomach that he still appeared to hide behind some empty lies. 

 

“That's ridiculous.” Altair shook his head and rubbed his chin. “Don't turn your anger on me, turn it on our enemies.” 

 

Malik crocked one eyebrow and his lips pulled back into a snarl. “I somehow can't shake off the feeling that I've got the chance to lead a quiet life this time until you showed up - again. They want _you_ , don't they? I was just there for bail.” 

 

Altair leaned back in his chair, bringing some distance in between them and looked irritated at the other man. “So that's how it is, yes? You think they wouldn't have went after you if it weren't for me. So tell me Malik... before tonight, before all of this _fucking_... mess. Was your life how you wanted it to be? Was it as quiet as you want to make me believe?” It was a daring question, his words like blows to Malik's guts and Altair knew, knew he was provoking him – but he wanted to see him crumble in front of him, wanted to see the walls of Malik's world come tumbling down. 

 

He wanted him to finally admit. 

 

He wanted him to finally understand. 

 

He watched Malik pursing his lips, thought he could almost see the images of his memories playing behind his eyes, a long forgotten movie which came to new life again. Malik smiled, empty and sad. “Maybe it wasn't how I wanted it to be.” Because even this time when he'd gotten a second chance, he hadn't been able to safe Kadar. He looked up again. “But at least it was a _life_. What's left of it now?” 

 

Altair didn't say anything. It wasn't like as if it was the same for him. He spent most of his adult life by himself. He hadn't felt lonely although most people would probably consider a life like that as such but not for him – he'd just always felt out of place and right now, it was the same as Malik was pushing him away. Again. 

 

“What do I know”, he sighed. He was annoyed, he was pissed and he wanted to go out and feel warm blood running over his hands, wanted to see how somebody's life slowly ended how they stared up at Altair with empty eyes when he looked down on them with a meaningless smile on his lips. That's what he was actually good at. Killing. “It doesn't help us at all to to be angry at each other”, Altair muttered and tousled his hair. “We need to get out of the city.”

 

“And where should we go?”, Malik snorted at him. 

 

“I know a place”, Altair muttered, “Haven't been there for a very long time, don't even know if it still exists but it's worth a try.”

 

“Spill it, where and what would that be?”

 

But Altair smirked and it looked as if somebody had just stapled a smile on his face and Malik grew irritated.

 

“I don't think-”

 

“Then you shouldn't talk”, Altair cut him off, leaving no room for any argument. 

 

Either Malik trusted him on this one or he didn't. Simple as that.

 

“Altair-” But he got up and went for the heater, picking up his clothes and quietly got dressed. Again he could feel Malik's gaze on him but chose to ignore him. He'd ignored Malik for most of his life, he could learn how to do it again if he needed to. He was just about to close the belt of his pants when he felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “What is it you want to hear from me?”

 

“Nothing”, Altair muttered and shook his head, his belt snapping shut and he reached for his shirt but Malik turned him around so they could face each other. 

 

“You're bad at lying. At least when it comes to me”, Malik said and for a second Altair thought his gaze had grown more gentle. 

 

“You expect me to have the answers for questions I don't even know yet”, Altair said. “I get it, alright? You're angry at me for fucking something up I have no idea about but I'm sorry Malik we're stuck in this together so we either start working together or we don't”, he snapped at him. “So which one do you chose?” 

 

He saw Malik pressing his lips tightly together, turning them into a thin white line. “I wish I didn't have to choose at all.” 

 

“Sucks to be us then”, Altair groaned and rubbed his forehead. “We need to figure things out but we can't do this here with Abstergo on our heels. Right now I can't think of any place where we'd be safe right now.”

 

“So why bother moving then, huh?”, Malik snorted, hands crossing in front of his chest and Altair could tell he sometimes didn't know where to put his left arm. He didn't have a left arm for so long, he was allowed to think of it as something foreign which didn't belong there.

 

“Well, if they come and trust me, they will at least I want to have the higher ground”, Altair muttered, putting on his shirt. It was still damp but it was warm. 

 

“You know you have to tell me eventually where you plan on going”, Malik rolled his eyes. He didn't like it when Altair kept his secrets, he hadn't liked it back in Masyaf and with the Apple and he certainly didn't like it now. 

 

“Okay, alright, fine”, Altair huffed. “My parents had a cabin in the woods near Denver up in the Rocky Mountains. When I was young my father took me there for hunting until we started moving. I don't even know if that cabin still exists but unless nobody bought and lives in it know, we should be able to stay there for at least a little while.”

 

“Great – I hope you don't plan on taking a plane to Denver. I bet we won't pass security at the airport.”

 

Altair nodded. “No you're right but I might know somebody who could help us.”

 

“Yeah, who?”

 

“Somebody who works with me, somebody I would actually trust. I doubt Abstergo would go after him.”

 

“Why?”, Malik sat back down on the chair and held out his hand, Altair handing him his pants over.

 

Altair scoffed, “What would they want with a bartender?” 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just fucking love this story.

She was floating, her mind numb and body weightless. She wasn't breathing, didn't have to – the dead didn't need air. She remembered how it felt to be alive, the warm contact of skin meeting skin, an embrace, the touch of fingers, a kiss. There was no light, only darkness, her feet didn't touch the ground, her hands grabbed nothing. There was nothing, just empty space.

 

“She's still alive isn't she?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She could hear them talking, their voices distant and sounding familiar. She thought of them as memories, maybe. 

 

“Why do you keep her alive?”, the younger voice of the two of them asked but there wasn't an answer. 

 

For a moment she thought she should feel scared but she didn't. The darkness and empty space felt comfortable, as if she'd spent a long time in here, sleeping. She had no idea why she'd woken up but didn't feel eager to go back to rest. She felt weak, as if she hadn't eaten in a very long time but she wasn't hungry nor was she thirsty.

 

She held no memories, didn't know what she looked like, who she was _what_ she was. Only that she was existing and she didn't have an idea why she thought of herself as female but she knew it felt right.

 

Her head was empty. 

 

“He will come for her eventually.”

 

It was the second voice, the older sounding once. She thought maybe it was her father who'd sounded like that – did she even have a father? She wouldn't know. Was it of importance? Probably not. She understood the concept of life and death and while she kept thinking she was dead, she also wondered if she'd ever really been alive.

 

She closed her eyes, at least she thought she did. She wasn't able to feel her body and in the darkness she wouldn't be able to tell the difference. But she had the feeling she needed to wait just a little longer, just a bit more. Maybe she'd feel human again.

 

 

xxx

 

 

Another motel, another bed, another fridge and another table and yet it still looked all the same to Altair when he threw the pizza box onto the bed, watching it bounce a little before he turned around to Malik who'd closed the door behind him, whirling the key around his finger.

 

“Okay, so tell me again why we've been here for another week when we need to get back to New York?” he asked Altair and took off his jacket, an old leather one somebody had left at a bus station – okay, maybe they didn't leave it there but Malik stole it. Big deal. They had fucking Abstergo on their heels, stealing was the least of their problems. 

 

“Isn't it what they expect us to do? Trying to get away as fast as possible? And fuck me if it wasn't my fist reaction after I got that doctor off my ass”, Altair muttered sourly and slumped down onto the bed, kicking his shoes off and folding his legs underneath his body. 

 

“Yes I know, you already said that but- I don't think I've ever seen you waiting that long before making a move.”

 

“I've waited that long before”, Altair snorted while he turned towards the pizza box, flipping it over.

 

“Hardly”, Malik said and a small smile tugged at the corner of of his lips but he did come over eventually and sat down next to Altair, picking up a slice.

 

“I've waited for you”, Altair shrugged and took the first bite. He tried to ignore Malik's stare, really did but in the end he just couldn't stand the weight of his gaze any longer and turned around, mouth still half full of pizza. “What?”

 

Malik kept staring, then blinked and shook his head. “Nothing.”

 

Altair snorted. It was ridiculous how fast they'd fallen back into their old roles and how little had changed – the only thing really bothering was Malik being the bitch he knew back from when he'd been the rafiq of Jerusalem, pissed at a young blood thirsty Altair – a man who died a long time ago. He wasn't that arrogant little prick anymore, was he? He'd learned. He'd paid for his sins – and still, Malik made sure to remind him every day just how much he'd fucked up _-again-_ and how much he hated it. 

 

Which made it even worse was the fact that Malik knew he wasn't being reasonable – that he couldn't blame this on Altair. Knowing this made it even worse because now Malik was also angry at himself which made him even more angry at Altair. He thought it made no sense at all but Malik almost gave him a bloody nose three days ago when he'd told him he acted like a woman on her period. He'd tried to lighten the mood but had obviously failed with it – again.

 

“Then stop staring at me”, Altair said once he'd swallowed, quickly finishing his slice and reaching for the next one. “I won't leave anything for you, you know?”, he said eventually and pointed at the box between their bodies, urging Malik to start eating again.

 

“Do you think they're observing your friends, co-workers, girlfriend?”

 

“I don't have friends”, Altair muttered around a mouth full of cheese. “And the people I work with, I work with – I don't hang out with them or anything. I doubt it they expect me to show up at one of their places”, he shrugged.

 

“And your girlfriend?”, Malik kept pondering and Altair tried hard not to grin – Malik was so blunt at times when he really thought he was so smart. 

 

“Don't know what you're talking about”, although Altair knew _exactly_ what Malik tried to ask.

 

It wasn't like as if they'd spoken much the last couple of days. To be honest they hadn't spoken at all for most of the time. They'd kept quiet, had changed their locations at night and really tried to keep a low profile and Malik was still pissed at Altair for something he had no control over. He'd thought it was unfair but had soon realized that Malik needed his anger to keep on functioning so he had just taken every blow Malik had thrown at him without complaining. So yeah, right now Altair enjoyed it that Malik wanted to know if he was taken in this time, with Altair being an ass about it and playing dumb.

 

“Is there someone waiting for you?” Malik tried it again while Altair licked his thumb clean of grease. 

 

“Waiting?”, he asked innocently and while Malik was still holding his first slice, Altair was already going for his third. He could see how Malik's eyes narrowed and dear god, that man had to learn to keep his patience longer! He looked as if he was ready to explode again and Altair supposed he maybe just needed to get laid to get some of the tension out of his system.

 

“You know what I'm talking about.”

 

“No Malik, I really don't”, Altair said and guided the piece of pizza towards his mouth, ready to take a bite when Malik slapped his hand, hard, sending the slice flying across the room and it landed with the topping on the dirty carpet. Altair looked at his lost piece of pizza, then slowly at Malik.

 

“Why did you do that?!”, he asked him while he got up and went for the food, picking it off the ground. 

 

“Don't tell me you're still going to eat that?”

 

“I once hid in a pile of shit when I was a novice... It just has a little fluff on it, it's still good I can still eat it.”

 

“I'd rather have you not eating right now.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“ Because you haven't answered me yet.”

 

“If you want to know if I'm available you just have to ask”, Altair told him with one eyebrow arched as he picked the fluffs off his pizza. 

 

“I thought I did”, Malik said sourly. 

 

“Well, you've asked if I have a girlfriend but I think what you really want to know is if you can have that hot piece of ass.” 

 

“You're so full of yourself Altair...”

 

“Why, you're allowed to be a bitch all the time and I can't be the ass?”

 

Malik sighed and rubbed his face with both palms, then watched with a disgusted look how Altair took a bite of the pizza slice. “Alright, I admit I haven't been very nice to you the last days-”

 

“You ever been nice to me?”

 

“I was nice to you!”

 

“When?”

 

“When you got married... oh and when Darim was born.” 

 

It only hurt a little to hear his son's name... Altair liked to pretend it. Just a little - a little reminder of what he once had and what was now lost. He liked to pretend...

 

He quickly shook the feeling off, tried to push the memories away and he snorted.

 

Malik offering him a small smile.

 

“You look even more terrifying when you smile”, Altair noted and pointed at Malik with his food. 

 

“Yeah right”, he scoffed and turned back to eat again.

 

“So is it out of your system yet?”

 

“What do you mean?”, Malik asked.

 

“I don't know, whatever it is that made you look as if you're about to murder me any minute.”

 

“I still want to murder you.”

 

“You know I didn't do anything Malik...”, Altair said softly and grew more serious. They needed to end this once and for all. Sometimes he thought Malik had completely forgotten what he'd done after Solomon's Temple, that he'd paid for his sins and was forgiven by Malik.

 

“I've told you to destroy that thing.”

 

Oh.

 

“They're not looking after the Apple, I've thought I've told you that.”

 

“No”, Malik slowly shook his head. “I'm talking about the Chalice”

 

“Adha was the Chalice.”

 

“I know.”

 

Altair's muscles went tense and he stared into empty space. 

 

“The mentor send you to retrieve it, I've already told you back then that such power doesn't belong in the hands of mankind.”

 

“So what you're saying is that I should have killed Adha.”

 

“Yes.” Malik nodded.

 

Altair took a sharp breath in, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore. “I'm not you.”

 

“I know. We have different ethics.”

 

“Would you have killed Kadar if he were to be the Chalice?”

 

Malik's eyes grew dark. “That's different.”

 

“No it's not.”

 

“Yes it is, I loved Kadar-” But Malik grew silent, his eyebrows rising upwards. “Oh I see”, he whispered eventually and Altair got up, forgetting about the half eaten slice of pizza and turning his back towards Malik.

 

“No you don't. Whatever it is you think you understand, I assure you it's not.” 

 

Malik slowly pulled the pizza box off the bed and put it onto the floor next to his feet. “Then why don't you tell me?”, he asked him and to Altair's surprise, his voice sounded soft, almost understanding and this really made him angry, hands turning into fists so hard his knuckles turned white but in the end, he slowly uncurled his fingers and sighed heavily.

 

“I don't have a girl.”

 

“What?” Malik blinked confused and Altair could feel his gaze on his back before he looked at him over his shoulder.

 

“You wanted to know, didn't you?”

 

“Well yes, but... but that seems really off topic right now.”

 

“I don't think it is.”

 

“I don't understand Altair.”

 

“Yeah like you never do.”

 

“What?”

 

Altair crossed the small distance between them and maybe it was because Malik had been sleeping for so long, forgotten about his reflexes and instincts that he didn't saw Altair's attack coming but before he could even lift his arm, he found himself on the bed with Altair half on top of him.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Something I should have done a long time ago...”, he said hoarsely, lips just inches from Malik's and Malik's eyes were drawn to them, then met Altair's as he felt his fingertips pressing against his hips, drawing small circles into the skin underneath his shirt.

 

“You're going to rape me?”

 

Altair looked hurt, his face turning into a mask of pure white pain. “What? Why would you think that?”

 

“Are you?”

 

“Fuck Malik, no I-” But whatever it was he wanted to say he didn't but closed the gap between them, kissing Malik and the man protested underneath him, his body bucking upwards like a wild angry horse fighting against its master, a beast not ready to be tamed yet but his movements came to a stop eventually and Altair thought Malik practically melted into the mattress underneath him when he finally started to return the kiss. 

 

“Why are you always doing this to me?”, Malik whispered after they broke apart for air, his lips a little red and swollen and his voice trembled.

  
  


“What do you mean?” Altair looked confused, sitting back on his heels while his hands slowly fell from Malik's body, landing in his lap.

  
  


Malik looked hurt. He looked beyond hurt, almost crushed and now Altair could see it in his eyes, how lost and... afraid he actually was. Malik swallowed hard. “Why can't you leave me alone? I've told you centuries ago-”

  
  


“You've told me lies!”, Altair roared and he was surprised how angry he sounded, how angry he really felt but he couldn't control himself, not at this moment. “You've told me lies centuries ago and you're telling me lies now”, he added. “You've fucked women?”

  
  


Altair's question broke the spell which had befallen Malik and he tore ffo his stupor, eyes blinking and meeting Altair's gaze. “What? Yes I have but this is not the current topic-”

  
  


“Yes it is”, Altair interrupted him, hissing the words and he leaned closer again with his flat palm pressing up against Malik's chest. “You've fucked them and you liked it?”, he kept on pondering, narrowing his eyes at Malik.

  
  


“Yes I liked it-”, Malik snarled at him, angry and about to attack as Altair kept pressing him into the corner he couldn't escape from.

  
  


“Liar.” Altair whispered, his fingers curling over Malik's chest, twisting the fabric of the shirt he wore.

  
  


“I'm not lying”, Malik said although his voice had grown softer by now.

  
  


“You've fucked them so nobody would know”, Altair kept on challenging him, his hand moving further down Malik's stomach.

  
  


“Would know what?”, he asked and now Altair thought his voice sounded thin and broken and there was something hiding between the words, something he hadn't figured out yet.

  
  


“How much you like being kissed by a man”, he whispered hoarsely, his hand moving underneath Malik's shirt and he in return gasped.

  
  


“I hate it”, Malik insisted although he leaned further onto the bed, his back almost touching the mattress now.

  
  


“You love it”, Altair murmured softly and kissed his throat while pushing in between his legs.

  
  


“No...”

  
  


“You want me.”

  
  


Malik didn't say anything to that, head rolling back to offer Altair's lips more access, legs falling further apart as Altair's fingertips moved underneath the waistband of his pants. “You missed this”, Altair added and he nodded weakly.

  
  


“I've missed this”, Malik said in a quiet voice and swallowed thickly, his adam's apple bobbing with the movement and he released a shaky breath of air when Altair's hand vanished underneath his jeans in between his legs.

  
  


When Malik pressed up against him, his hands searching for Altair's belt to unclasp it Altair hoped he would maybe understand this time.


	17. Chapter 17

“What's that?”, Malik whispered while his fingers brushed across Altair's shoulder blades, hovering above a certain spot. Altair shuddered, his skin was still damp with sweat and his heart was beating way too fast, cheeks red and eyes still glassy as he was only slowly recovering from his orgasm. 

 

“What's what?”

 

“It seems as if you have a small port-wine stain or something.”

 

“You probably just scratched me”, Altair sighed and rolled on his back before facing Malik.

 

“Doesn't look like it.”

 

“Is it that important?”

 

“No I was just wondering, I haven't noticed it before...”

 

“Well the last time you've seen me naked was a few hundred years ago. You're allowed to forget”, Altair hummed.

 

“That sounds fair”, Malik shrugged and closed his eyes, letting Altair leaning his head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat and even breath. It took them a couple of minutes before Altair was moving again, Malik groaned and reached for Altair's wrist, pulling him back in bed with him when he made an attempt to get up. “Don't you dare”, he murmured into the cushion underneath him, cheek pressing against it and the sheet tangled between his legs. 

 

“I need to take a piss.”

 

Malik groaned again, loudly. “Fucking gross.”

 

“Fucking normal thing to do.”

 

“Yeah but don't tell me”, Malik complained and turned on his side, presenting Altair his naked behind and Altair slapped him teasingly, making Malik yelp.

 

“Oh come on, loosen up a little”, Altair grinned. 

 

“I'm lying in bed with you naked, I _am_ loosened up.” 

 

“Seems like you are. I swear, you've been so far in the closet you could have very well been drinking some tea with Mr. Tumnus in fucking Narnia.”

 

The cushion landed in Altair's face. “Don't tell me it was that easy for you”, Malik grumbled sourly and turned back on his side, staring at the wall across of him and Altair thought it somehow killed the mood.

 

“Well... no”, he admitted and sat motionless on the bed's edge. “Back in Masyaf I couldn't admit to it or else they would have stoned me to death. Here in the twenty-first century I couldn't admit to it for a long time because of what I believed in.”

 

“And here you tell me shit about closets and Narnia”, Malik huffed and it made Altair smile a little.

 

“It's easier to be myself when being around you.”

 

Malik groaned again. “How can you say something like that with a straight face? Shut up and go to the bathroom already”, Malik muttered and pulled the blanket tightly underneath his head.

 

“We both know you like it”, Altair purred and leaned down, kissing the tip of Malik's ear before pulling away, picking his boxers from the floor and quickly putting them on as he made to walk towards the small bathroom – which really was either one big toilet or just one tiny shower... it really wasn't one of the best places they were currently staying at but they accepted cash and didn't ask questions so Altair guessed it was something they could tolerate – at least for one night, tomorrow they'd move again. As he passed the window he stopped, peering through a small gap between curtain and wall. He pulled the curtain a little to get a better view.

 

“What?”, Malik asked from behind him and pushed himself up on his elbows.

 

“Remember the black van parking in the lot when we got back earlier?”, Altair murmured softly and reached blindly for the light switch to turn it off.

 

“Uhm, yeah?”

 

“It's still there.”

 

“So what? Its owner is probably renting a room...”

 

“Its owner is still sitting inside like they did when we came back.” Altair narrowed his eyes to get a better view. Every now and then he could see the flaring of a cigarette, illuminating its smoker but Altair was too far away as if he was able to see his face. “It's two of them”, he commented then and shut the curtain. 

 

There was a short moment of silence and then, “Fuck.”

 

“Exactly”, Altair said. “Get dressed, we're going.” He could hear Malik rolling out of bed behind him. 

 

“Do you think they're from Abstergo?”, he pondered as he walked up to Altair's side, looking over his shoulder and peering through a small gap outside into the dark night.

 

“I don't know but I don't want to risk anything.”

 

“So what are you planning?”

 

Altair pursed his lips and thought for a little while. “Remember what we did back in the old days when the cities were full of sword swinging idiots?”

 

Malik rolled his eyes and rubbed his temple, “My ancient half remembers, yes.”

 

Altair turned his head and smiled over his shoulder at him. “So why not doing it again?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Creating some chaos”, Altair smirked and pinched Malik's behind as he walked past him.

 

“You're in an oddly good mood for discovering that somebody probably found us.”

 

“Oh that's because my plan's real good.”

 

“I doubt it. You're still Altair...”

 

“Oh shut up and watch.” Altair went over to the crappy phone they had in their room and he was surprised when he found it working. He cleared his throat, dialing a number and faced Malik before somebody picked up at the other end of the line. 

 

“I think somebody's going to blow something up”, Altair said in a real panicky voice although he was grinning while Malik simply stared at him dumbfounded.

 

“No don't tell me to calm down I know what I saw, okay lady? I saw them wearing guns and I think one of them said bomb.” He sounded close to tears now but Altair was still smiling. “I don't know my address I'm just a tourist passing through, don't you see from where I'm calling you? Look, I'm a grown man I don't panic easily but I think you should send a few guys as fast as possible... Yes, yes that sounds about right, the small motel down the road and please, please you need to hurry-” He suddenly ended the connection and Malik made his way over to Altair. He clapped Altair's shoulder. “That was good. But you think you're little show is enough for SWAT to come?

 

Altair snorted and rolled his eyes. “Probably not but they'll send at least two or three cops, I'm sure. That's enough for us, we only need a little distraction, that's all.”

 

Malik nodded. “There's an opening in the bathroom for the AC, looking pretty old and rusted – I think it's loose enough that we can either rip it off or kick it off and it's big enough to climb through it. I don't think it'll take long for the police to arrive here.”

 

“And what then?” 

 

Malik pulled his shirt over his head while Altair sat down, tying his shoes. 

 

“We need to find out how they found us...”

 

 

xxx

 

 

They were right about the police, although it were only two cars showing up but it was all they really needed to make their way out of the back of their motel room. The AC came loose quickly and Malik had only made a little fun of Altair for having problems to squeeze himself through the opening in the wall but in the end it didn't really matter as they had walked down a street leading through the middle of nothing. It was early in the morning when they finally arrived at their destination, Malik and Altair had decided to walk instead of tramping since they wouldn't know if the car stopping for them would be one of Abstergo's guys or not. So, they had taken the side streets, had climbed over backyard walls and made sure no body had seen them. 

 

Right now they stood in a small side street, hidden by a dumpster and Altair watched how the club he was working was just getting a delivery. “Alright, let me see if I can get our man's address. You'll wait here”, Altair sand and Malik rolled his eyes.

 

“I fought in the war Altair, I was an ancient assassin once – you don't need to think I'm a helpless damsel in distress alright?”

 

Altair glanced at Malik from the corner of his eye, “Just saying”, he shrugged and made his way out of the shadows and across the street. 

 

Hadil was standing in front of the entrance, a clipboard in his hand with a list on it and a pen behind his ear. He barely looked up when he saw Altair.

 

“I'm looking for our Wonder Boy, is he here today?”, Altair asked.

 

Wonder Boy.... It was a rather ridiculous nickname but it was fitting for a man who probably had a higher IQ than everybody else working the club, who attended university at day and worked the night shifts and yet still managed to write nothing but A's although he often didn't have more than three hours of sleep – simply a wonder boy. 

 

“He's not working today, I'm sorry”, Hadil told Altair with a shrug.

 

“Yeah... I'm going to need his address”, Altair said, arms crossed in front of his chest while he stepped aside so a man carrying a beer barrel could enter the _3:88_ , the night club Altair was working for as a bouncer a few times a week. Hadil was usually there too although Altair had never talked much to him as he hadn't talked much to his other co-workers. He did his fucking job, it didn't mean he had to socialize with everybody else there.

 

Hadil rose an eyebrow at him. “Yeah? You're going to have to ask the boss then. I have no idea where the dude lives, I honestly don't care”, Hadil huffed and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “Boss was there to check the delivery, maybe you're lucky and he's still in his office.”

 

“Thanks man”, Altair muttered and clapped Hadil on the shoulder as he made his way inside the club, following a long narrow corridor with black walls and red light bulbs before he took a turn to his right, opening the door with the 'Staff Only' sign on until he knocked on Walker's door. Walker wasn't really a good boss so Altair felt a bit uneasy. He hadn't showed up to his shift yesterday and since Hadil hadn't said anything about he just assumed he hadn't been working at the club last night – this was bad, because he really wanted to know if he should prepare for Walker to rip his head off but then again... fuck him, right? Walker was the least of his problems right now. 

 

“Come in”, he heard the deep voice coming from inside and Altair pushed the door open and faced Walker who was sitting behind his ass big desk. It was completely over the top for a club like the _3:88_ but then again, Walker was probably narcissistic anyway. 

 

“Altear”, he said and it made Altair cringe when he heard him speaking his name, how he seemed to completely _rape_ it with how he was speaking it, “Did you miss us or why do I have the honor of meeting you here?” Walker's voice dripped with venom.

 

“Walker look, before we go any further into this, I quit-”

 

“Good, because your lazy ass is fired anyway.”

 

Ah okay. So Walker was pretty pissed.

 

Altair shrugged with his shoulders, he had never cared for his job – it was good money but that was about it, that was before Abstergo, before his Awakening. 

 

“Since we're on the same terms, I need to ask you for one tiny favor”, Altair said and stood in front of Walker's desk, both palms pressing against the smooth polished surface staring at Walker. 

 

“And that would be...?”, Walker pondered and leaned heavily back in his chair, the tips of his fingers of each hand coming together. 

 

“I need our bartender's address.”

 

“Our bartender's address”, Walker repeated and really, Altair was about to lose his patience, that man's head was even bigger than Abbas! When the memory of Abbas returned to Altair, it felt as if somebody had stabbed him with an old rusty knife, piercing right through his heart and twisting it around and he almost lost it right then and there in front of Walker but if anything, the only thing which happened were Altair's hand curling into tight fists.

 

Ever since Abstergo had put him into that machine, ever since the memories of his ancient past had been triggered, new memories returned to his mind with every passing day. He remembered most of his childhood and youth, he remembered Solomon's Temple and Maria, remembered Kadar and Malik of course but those memories rose and fell like waves of the sea – sometimes they were closer and sometimes far away. Right now though, the memory of Abbas was _too_ close and almost took the air to breath from him.

 

“Why?”, Walker asked and it pulled Altair right from the string of memories and threw him back into reality. He released a sigh of relief. 

 

“None of your business. Do I get it or not?”

 

“You know what Altear”, Walker sighed and Altair shuddered again with disgust, “somebody who thinks he doesn't need to show up at his shift isn't really in the position to ask for a favor, especially not after I just fired him. So maybe you just go, mh? How about that?”, Walker asked him. 

 

“Why are you such a jerk today Walker?”, Altair asked straight forward – it wasn't as if he had anything to lose.

 

“Because I'm sick of my staff thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want. Just leave Altear”, Walker sighed and Altair nodded, slowly straightening his back and rubbing his chin.

 

He nodded, “Alright, good....”, he muttered and slowly walked around Walker's desk, holding out his hand for the older man to shake. “I guess I need to say my good byes now. Was a pleasure working for you sir”, Altair smiled down at him, watching how Walker eyed his hand suspiciously and then finally grabbed and shook it.

 

It was the moment Altair quickly pulled him forward, holding on tight to his hand and Walker yelped with surprise and groaned when Altair smashed him into his desk face first, twisting his arm behind his back. “The address, Walker, please”, he hissed as he leaned across his back, lips close to his ear.

 

“The fuck!”, Walker cried, “Let me go you son of a bitch!”

 

Altair clicked his tongue. “No, you don't do that. You think I'm hurting you now? I can break one finger after the other Walker so I suggest you better tell me where I can find that fucking address or you won't be able to jerk yourself off for the next six weeks.”

 

“I'm going to call Hadil-”

 

“You better hold on to that thought”, Altair muttered, his second hand joining the one keeping Walker's arm behind his back and with one sudden, quick move he broke his thumb, the man's cries reverberating from the office's walls.

 

“That was number one-”

 

“Hadil!”

 

Another crack, another cry and a string of curse. “Number two... The human body has 206 bones Walker, and I can break all of them and I really just want an address, it's not that hard of a question.”

 

Walker was panting heavily now and he looked a little sick, sweat was standing on his face when he craned his neck to look up at Altair. “Alright you fucking bastard-”

 

“Ops, careful Walker, my fingers are a little twitchy and I might break number three.”

 

“You can find it in the file cabinet behind me”, he groaned and Altair followed his gaze. He kept Walker's arm where it was as he reached for one of the drawer, pulling it open and reaching for the file he was looking for. He let it drop next to Walker's face and opened it. His eyes soon found the address. “Now that wasn't so hard was it?”

 

“Fuck you”, Walker spat and Altair shook his head while he let go of the man's arm.

 

“Now now.... I'm sorry I had to do this but you really left me no choice.”

 

Altair wasn't really afraid Walker would follow him, he looked pale and shaky on his legs. “Oh and by the way... it's Altair”, Altair called as he opened the door, throwing one last look at Walker. “I'm sorry it has to end like this but it seems fate has other plans with me.”

 

Nobody stopped Altair when he left the club and since Hadil was still minding his own business he knew Walker hadn't called the man to keep Altair from walking. What kept him from walking wasn't Hadil but an unknown man stepping in front of him when Altair had almost reached the small side street Malik was waiting for him. It only took Altair one glance to see the weapon hidden in his sleeve, pointing at him.

 

“Mr. Ibn'La-Ahad?”, he asked.

 

Fuck. Altair looked over his shoulder and into the side street. No sign from Malik.

 

“Who wants to know?”, he asked.

 

“Would you please follow me? There are people who want to speak with you. It's urgent and I have to insist you follow me.”

 

Altair's thoughts were racing and while he kept wondering where the fuck Malik was, he couldn't rely on his friend to show up in time. He only had a few seconds to decide over his next moves so he had to come to a decision rather fast.

 

“Alright”, he sighed and looked over the man's shoulder and down the street. “There's really no need for violence.”

 

“Well good”, he smirked at Altair, “because I would hate it if I had to put a bullet in your leg. Show me all of your weapons”, he demanded.

 

“I really don't have any on me”, Altair said, “but I won't mind showing you that I'm unharmed”, he added and reached to open his jacket.

 

“What are you doing”, he hissed at Altair.

 

“I've already told you, I'm showing you I'm not armed,” he explained again with a sigh and a roll of his eyes while he pulled the zipper of his jacket all the way down, then shrugged it off his shoulders. “Here,” Altair said and held his arms to each side of his body, palms up and slowly turning around. “You need to see more?”

 

“No,” he shook his head but Altair was already starting to unbutton his shirt. “I said there's no need for that,” he told Altair again and Altair saw how he gritted his teeth in anger – Altair knew there was no way of him shooting him in out in the middle of a busy street near Broadway anyway – he was worse at bluffing than even Malik was. “Will you stop already?” 

 

His voice grew louder now as Altair peeled of his shirt as well, chest naked. Altair looked at him for a short moment and he found it difficult to not grin. He sighed heavily, theatrically. “What, you still don't believe I don't have any blades hidden on me? Alright”, he said and reached for his belt.

 

“Fuck, what the hell are you talking about? Stop undressing already!” He was getting nervous now, Altair could see that as people slowly stopped when they saw a man in the middle of New York, chest bare and about to pull down his pants – which he now did. 

 

“I swear to you there's no blade or any other weapon hidden on me”, Altair said, ignoring his pleas completely. 

 

“I can see that, now get dressed again!”, he hissed once again, stepping closer and reaching for Altair's jacket on the ground. “Get dressed!” He shoved it at Altair's chest but he simply stepped back.

 

“Oh man I can't believe you're making me do this”, he groaned while one thumb hooked underneath the waistband of his boxers and the man's eyes got wide.

 

“No-”

 

But he pulled his underwear down, the boxers as well as his jeans around his ankles and he spread his arms to each side, standing naked in front of him. “Alright are you happy now?”

 

The man opened his mouth for a reply, eyes wide in shock and shoulders trembling but all which could be heard was a police siren which caught his attention immediately. 

 

And now he understood and Altair grinned. “Can't kidnap a naked guy who gets arrested can you?”, Altair pondered with a smooth smile and cocked his head to one side. 

 

He didn't say anything, didn't even move as the officer got out of his car. “Alright son, show is over. Pants up and hands behind your head.”

 

Altair was still grinning as he did what he was told, letting the police man arrest him. “This is just a delay”, the Abstergo guy told Altair in a quiet voice as he was shoved into the backseat of the car.

 

“This is just you failing miserable”, Altair smiled back and then the cop closed the door, pushing the man back, telling him to make some room while Altair kept looking at him, smiling still while wearing his pants again. Once he was out of sight Altair turned forwards, looking at the back of cop's head.

 

“So I'm arrested?”

 

“You bet son”, he muttered back and Altair thought he sounded a little Texan. 

 

“I do get my call don't I?”

 

“Everybody gets their call.”

 

Altair smirked a little. “Good.”


	18. Chapter 18

“No ID, no driver license, no social security number, nothing.”

 

“No name?”

 

“I run the one he gave us through the data base but...”

 

“So I just assume he gave you a fake one.”

 

“Yes”, the officer groaned and stared at the man currently sitting in the interrogation room.”

 

“And you picked him up because he was stripping in the streets?”, his colleague asked, arms crossed in front of his chest, following his gaze.

 

“Yeah I did. Drug test came back negative by the way. I've thought maybe he was trippin' on something.”

 

“And fingerprints?”

 

“Nothing. As if he doesn't fucking exist.”

 

“Tough one Hayden”, his friend chuckled and pat his shoulder. “Good look then finding out who your Chippendale is.” 

 

“Yeah...no, fuck you”, Hayden grinned and walked back into the room, closing the door behind him and taking the seat in front of Altair. “Alright”, he sighed and folded his hands on top of the table, looking Altair up and down. “You making it a bit hard for me son and to be honest, I'm currently getting pissed for a punk like you wasting my time. That name you gave me-”

 

“Is a bit tricky to write, I know.”, Altair ended the sentence for him and smiled.

 

“You think this is funny?”

 

Altair's smile died and he leaned a bit forward in his chair. “No sir, I don't”, he told him eventually. 

 

“Come on, spill it boy. What's your real name? If you're in trouble I'm going to find out sooner or later anyway.”

 

Altair blinked. Oh. Okay. This was new. He didn't give a false one and when he'd told the officer his name he knew it would give Abstergo his current position. He also knew that they wouldn't hold him for too long for something as minor as stripping in the streets but back then it had helped him to escape quickly without making a mess. Right now he just wanted to get back on the streets and get going, and the best thing to do that was to play along with the cops, Altair knew that. So, to say he was surprised when he was told his own real name wasn't his own real name was a bit of an understatement. “I don't understand.” 

 

“It's rather easy. You either give me your name or I will treat you like an illegal immigrant and get you out of this fucking country.”

 

Okay, that was kind of Altair's plan anyway but he'd rather get out of the USA on the his own and not by force and certainly not by the feds. 

 

“There needs to be a mistake in your computer system. Maybe you wrote my name wrong or somebody else did but there's no way you can't-”

 

“There was no mistake, believe me. Just tell me your name and we can both go our ways. If you don't want to cooperate I can take you into custody, I doubt you want that.”

 

No, shit he didn't want that, he wanted to get back out in the streets, find Malik, find his bartender who owns a pilot license and fly them out to his parents old cabin from where they could plan their next moves. This was just another delay, a delay Altair couldn't use right now and it made him angry. “Look, if that's your way to treat innocent citizens-”

 

“Innocent, stripping in public citizen-”

 

“This is no way to treat me, I gave you my name it's not my fault if you can't type it the right way into that little computer of yours.”

 

“Mr. Ibn-La'Ahad”, the police officer -Hayden Yawken read the little name tag- sighed, “this could all be so easily avoided if you would carry your ID with you.”

 

“I've told you already my wallet got stolen”, Altair growled and sat a little up. “Can I get my phone call now?” 

 

Yawken looked him up and down, “Will you tell me your name?”

 

Altair sighed frustrated. “Look, you can call my old boss and ask him if Altair Ibn'La-Ahad was working for him and he will tell you yes, call my landlord or whoever the fuck you want, they will tell you this is my real name.”

 

“That's not how it works around here boy-”

 

“I'm not a boy”, Altair hissed and curled his fingers into tight fists. He thought he slowly understood what was going on here and he had to admit, that was a somewhat clever move. He realized that there were more than just one option to make a man disappear these days and if they wanted to play it like that, well, Altair had no other choice but submit to their rules then – although that didn't mean he couldn't create a few of his own.

 

“Right now you are, and you're under arrest until the matter is solved. You get your phone call and I suggest you better use it to call your lawyer”, he sighed and slowly stood up.

 

Altair huffed. “Don't worry. I'll call somebody better than that.”

 

 

xxx

 

 

“It's him sir.”

 

“What?” Vidic looked at the young man holding a cellphone up into his direction, his glasses riding too low on his nose and his fringe was too long – boy looked like a damn hippie. “Whoever it is, tell them I don't have time for them.”

 

“Sir, it's _him_ ”, the young man insisted and it got him a little more of Vidic's attention. 

 

“Him?”, he asked disbelieving and slowly straightened his back from where he was bent over a desk looking over a woman's shoulder who was currently checking motel's guest lists for their targets names. His eyes traveled to the phone then back to the man. “Give me that”, he said slowly and snatched the cell out of his hand, holding it up to his ear. “That was quite clever what you did there this morning, Altair”, he said with a small smile on his lips and while his voice was calm his eyes weren't and he made wild movements to get the attention of the men and women working for him, telling them quietly to get a connection up to trace the call.

 

“I'd say it was necessary”, Altair hummed on the other end of the line and Vidic's lips pulled back into a snarl. “But it was absolutely unnecessary for you to steal my identity.”

 

“We didn't steal your identity... we simply _deleted_ it”, Vidic smiled and got the sign that a connection was up and that Altair was calling from within New York City. 

 

“Well I have to admit I wouldn't have thought for you being clever like that and please tell your people it's absolutely idiotic to trace my call when I'm going to tell you where I am anyway, that clicking sound is annoying”, Altair sighed heavily into the speaker. 

 

“So you finally came to senses, I am so happy to hear that”, Vidic smiled sweetly and sat down on the desk's edge, crossing his legs. 

 

“Yeah you didn't give me a choice did you? I'm at the 31st police department.”

 

“I could send somebody to pick you up right now.”

 

“I need somebody to get me out of prison first. Apparently the law has something against middle-eastern man who's names don't appear if you type them into computers to check their identity.”

 

Vidic chuckled at that. “Well if that's all of your problems right now... My man's going to pick you up in an hour.”

 

“Good. One more thing though.”

 

“I'm not sure if you're in the position to have any demands Altair.”

 

“I'm damn right in that position Vidic if you want my help to find the Chalice.”

 

Vidic pursed his lips and slowly breathed out through his noise, making a small piping sound. “What is it then?”

 

“Where's Al-Sayf?”

 

Vidic blinked. “So you don't know?”

 

“Our plans changed a little so yeah, I don't know”, Altair growled. 

 

“I see – seems the best assassin of all times got a little rusty if he doesn't know where is best man's at.”

 

“And you don't know either”, Altair said in an amused tone.

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“You're avoiding my question and they way how you speak gives you easily away. You're a shitty modern day Templar Vidic. You think you know how it works but you really don't”, Altair explained in a matter of fact tone, “and- oh. Look, this friendly looking officer here is telling me my time's up. So you're man's going to be here in an hour?”

 

“An hour top”, Vidic said with a grim smile and tried to ignore Altair's comment – although, unfortunately, they really didn't know where Al-Sayf was. They lost track of him as soon as he'd left the city and right now there was a small searching party heading out to find them their lost ancient assassin. 

 

“I'm looking forward to it”, Altair said and before Vidic could say anything he hung up. He held the phone a little longer to his ear before his arm slowly sunk down and he looked into a dozen faces, all of them just waiting for his orders.

 

“So”, he said slowly and pushed himself off the desk, taking a few steps forwards when he was looking into the round. “Where's Cross?”


	19. Chapter 19

Vidic was right.

 

Hardly an hour had passed when there came an officer to the little cell he was waiting in, keys rustling and opening Altair's door. “You can go”, he simply said and Altair narrowed his eyes.

 

“Just like that?”, he asked and the man nodded.

 

“We run your name through the database again, seems like there was some sort of spelling mistake. You should thank your buddy for bringing your driver license. Didn't you say they stole your wallet?”

 

Alright, so Vidic's guys worked _fast –_ just an hour from Altair being no one to become a Ibn-La'Ahad again? He'd call that good work.

 

“Yeah somebody found it and send it back to me...”, he said and rubbed the back of his neck. “Doesn't matter anymore does it? I'm free to go right?”

 

“Yeah, he paid for you too. You get a letter in a few weeks with your court date for that little show you pulled up there”, the officer noted and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

 

“Okay, thanks”, Altair muttered quickly and grabbed his jacket to push himself past the man – he wanted to get out of here as fast as possible and he yet needed to figure out a way to get rid of the Abstergo boy.

 

When he walked up into the little waiting area there was only one man sitting there and Altair walked straight up to him, the police officer still following him. 

 

“Thank god you came”, he grinned at the stranger and pulled him into a bear hug, clapping him on his back, “Wouldn't have known what to do without you – are we good to go?”

 

Whoever it was he'd just hugged was thankfully smart enough to play along and he pat Altair's shoulder once they broke apart again. “Yeah we're good to go, the old man's really pissed so... if I were you I'd go see him right away before he gets even more angry”, he said, some sort of accent swinging within his words Altair couldn't put his finger on.

 

Whoever it was Altair was talking to was armed. Altair had felt a small gun in his left pocked when he'd hugged him and he just assumed he was wearing more weapons on him so it meant Altair had to pay extra attention if he wanted to get rid of him. They made their way out of the police station together, Altair's arm around his neck and only when they'd walked a block or two down the street did the man shove Altair away, a hidden blade coming to live and pointing at Altair – alright, gun left pocket, hidden blade right hand. Good to know. “Alright, that's enough”, he told him although his voice was calm and even. 

 

Altair looked at him thoroughly. He looked young, average in his looks but _big_ like a giant, dark skin and hair, but eyes which seemed empty and dead, like they'd seen too much already and for a split second Altair felt pity for him – such a young life and already doomed. “So what are your orders?”, Altair asked eventually as they walked down the street and turned into a small alley. 

 

“I bring you home”, he said and Altair tried to figure out where he'd heard such an accent before but he just couldn't come up with something. 

 

“Home?”, he asked and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You're calling Abstergo home?” But he didn't answer and Altair thought it was almost to expect. He stopped walking. “I don't think Abstergo's my home.”

 

The boy turned around. He probably was anything but a boy and Altair had no doubt that the man had already killed in his past but Altair felt old. He could remember his days from Masyaf, he _was_ fucking old so the man in front of him really was nothing but a boy to him. “The old man said to bring you home so I do.” He beckoned at Altair. “There weren't any specific orders to bring you there in one piece you know? So I suggest you better come with me by your own free will”, he told Altair and also he had just threatened him, he still sounded almost... humble. 

 

“My own free will...” Altair scoffed. He shook his head slowly, “I don't think you understand what a 'own free will' really means, so I'm going to tell you this. I will go now and nothing bad is going to happen. Either to me or to you. You are going to tell Vidic that it was nice of him helping me, but that I'm good on my own again.”

 

The boy smiled a little and Altair thought for a moment he looked sad. “I have my orders. You are coming with me, the old man's waiting.” 

 

“Well, I'm sorry but you need to tell Vidic I can't follow his invitation.”

 

“You keep saying this name, but I don't know it. Who's Vidic?”

 

Altair blinked at him. “Vidic didn't send you?”

 

He shook his head. “No.” 

 

“Then who send you?”

 

Again he smiled. “You will meet him soon enough when you come with me.”

 

Altair thought he saw a shadow in the corner of his eye but didn't pay it much attention. He lookd at the boy. “Alright, this has to stop. I am not coming with you.”

 

He turned around, facing Altair once more. “I have my orders.”

 

Altair looked him dead in the eye. “And I have my own free will.” It took him maybe half a second to get into position before he attacked. 

 

 

xxx

 

 

Altair turned back to the corpse when he heard a cellphone ringing. He crouched down next to the dead man and searched in his pocket, but didn't find anything. It didn't stop ringing and he rolled the man on his side, the item he was looking for lying underneath him. Huh. No caller ID and Altair thought for a small moment. The phone stopped ringing and he went through the man's contact list. They were probably tracking this cellphone so maybe it was better to take it with him. He went into his messages next and oh, great: He got his orders via SMS. Good. Altair clutched the phone in his hand and shoved it into his pocket. 

 

He almost jumped when the phone vibrated with a text message and Altair arched an eyebrow. He wouldn't have thought to get a new order so fast and he quickly opened the text.

 

_Novice, pick up the damn phone. M._

 

Just a second later the phone started ringing again, no caller ID. Altair picked up and started speaking right away. “Just where the fuck are you and how the hell did you do this?”, Altair hissed into the phone and to say he was pissed was a bit of an understatement. He was fucking furious and if Malik would stand in front of him right now he'd throttle him with own two hands. 

 

“I'm about six hours norths from NYC and it's nice to hear your voice too darling”, Malik chirped cheerfully and it sounded like as if he was eating. 

 

“Wh- why, Malik, why, why are you six hours away when you were supposed to wait just on the other side of the fucking street? How could you get from there to whoever the hell you are right now!”

 

“Altair”, Malik said around a mouthful of food. “Relax.”

 

“Don't tell me to relax when I have the blood of the man I just killed on my hands”, he whispered in another hiss, turning slightly away when he thought he saw somebody walking by the alley. 

 

“Killed?”

 

“Yes, killed! My modern self and my ancient self are battling each other and right now my modern self is fucking terrified that he'd just killed somebody!”

 

“Oh?” Altair imagined Malik to blink surprised. “And I've thought you and your ancient self sort... melted together into a whole new person? A new Altair. Altair 1.2 or something.”

 

“Malik shut up already.”

 

“Yeah, no. I'm going to give you a few instructions so we can meet up again without you getting arrested for stripping in the streets. It turned me a little on to be honest.”

 

“I bet it didn't.”

 

“No you are right about that but hush now. Go to East Central Station, take the seven thirty train. Car 104, seat 13b.”

 

“And that's where I meet you?”

 

“That's where your tickets are silly, underneath your seat. You will get out at Montreal.”

 

“Montreal?”

 

“Yes. I will meet you here.”

 

The call ended and Altair growled. He felt like as if he was in the middle of some sort of spy movie and he still had no idea just how the fuck Malik did all of this, how he got to Montreal and how the hell he could place tickets for him in a train while sitting in fucking Canada. 

 

Altair blinked.

 

Canada.

 

He was going to Canada.

 

 

xxx

 

 

 

Malik was at the train station to pick him up and even though he was standing in the middle of the crowd waiting for the train to enter, Altair had already seen him before the train stopped and the doors opened. He waited for the other passengers to get out first and since this was the final stop, he waited until nobody else was in the train anymore. With the platform almost empty, Altair finally got out and slowly walked up to Malik who stood there wearing a plain suit with his hands in his pockets, looking at Altair with his head tilted to one side.

 

“How was your ride?”, he asked once Altair stood in front of him.

 

“Long.”

 

“So I assume. Are you ready to go now?”

 

“Not quite”, Altair shook his head and he leaned slightly forwards and into Malik's body, his fingers fumbling with Malik's jacket, gently curling around it to pull him closer before he grabbed him by the collar with both hands, yanking him not too gently forward to bring their faces close. “You have so much to explain”, Altair growled at him and then pushed Malik back. 

 

“I will do that once we're in our hotel room”, he nodded. “Come on... cab's waiting.”

 

“Why do I have this feeling that I don't even know you anymore?”, Altair muttered while he followed Malik outside. “I mean... what the hell happened?”

 

“I just took care of some matters.”

 

“Come on, stop talking in riddles now”, Altair growled and opened the cab's door, slumping into the backseat right next to Malik and without saying anything, the driver took of.

 

“Riddles are all I can offer you right now, I believe”, Malik sighed and looked outside his window. It had started raining and little, thick drops were running down the smooth glass. 

 

“You don't want to tell me.” It wasn't a question and Altair felt a little... betrayed. 

 

“Welcome to the club”, Malik winked at him before his eyes narrowed. “Seriously Altair, be a little patient. I'm going to tell you soon.”

 

“Patience has never been one of my strength and you know it.”

 

“Yes”, Malik agreed, “and if you don't behave like a good boy I won't tell you at all.”

 

“You do realize who you're talking to and in what position we're right now?”

 

“Oh, I think our position isn't as bad as you might think.”

 

Altair scoffed. “Well I hope so.” 

 

They were silent for the rest of the drive until they reached their hotel and Altair couldn't believe his eyes. “Malik, are you serious? You think this is what 'keeping a low profile' means? That's the fucking Fairmont Tremblant!” 

 

“Yes”, Malik nodded. “Vous pouvez garder le changement”, he told the cab driver who accepted the money with a sharp nod before Altair and Malik got out of the car. Altair looked from the hotel entrance to Malik. The Fairmont Tremblant was one, if not _the_ best hotel in all of Montreal and if he remembered correctly, it even won a Five Diamond Award. One night at the hotel must cost a fortune. “Where did you get the money? Did you rob a bank or something?”

 

Malik offered him a lopsided grin. “Let's just say I have a booker and saved a bit of money over the years.”

 

“You spent all of your money on me? I'm touched sweety”, Altair huffed as they rounded a corner, Altair following Malik's lead.

 

“Don't be ridiculous”, Malik snorted, “not _all_ of my money. Just some...”, he hummed and winked at Altair next and he in turn stopped completely.

 

“Alright... just, about how much money are we talking about?”, Altair asked and placed one hand on his hip and for a split second the image of an one-armed Malik doing so flashed up in his memory. 

 

“Enough that we don't have to worry about anything for a few weeks”, Malik explained and beckoned at Altair. “Come on, we don't have all day. I'm sure Abstergo soon learns about my booker and he's the guy that would sell his own soul for a few dollars extra cash so I'm sure he'll rat me out within a second.”

 

“Why didn't you say anything earlier?”

 

At this Malik pursed his lips and Altair was wondering if he'd said something wrong. “Let's just say a few circumstances have changed. I originally planned on spending this money differently but...”

 

“But?”

 

Malik sighed heavily. “The friend I was saving it for has died a few days ago.”

 

Altair released a sharp breath of air. “I'm sorry Malik.”

 

“Don't be”, he told Altair. “Come on... I already got us a room. I thought we could stay here for a while. I think Abstergo would probably not search the big hotels for us at first, so maybe that gives us a day or two.”

 

“Yeah, probably not. Not until they learn you're secretly rich.”

 

“I'm not rich Altair”, Malik scolded him as they entered the great hall and heading towards the elevators. It was late in the evening but the lobby was still busy with people checking in and checking out. The man at the elevators was greeting them but didn't pay much attention to the two men.

 

“There are a lot of video cameras”, Altair noted in a soft voice.

 

“Almost everything is under video surveillance Altair”, Malik muttered back and smiled at the man who greeted them inside the elevator. “Fourth floor”, Malik told him and again they stopped talking and didn't until Malik opened the door to their room.

 

It was... huge and Altair noticed with a grin that there was only one bed. He went straight forward it and lumped down heavily, bouncing a bit as he looked up at Malik. “Are you going to tell me now?”

 

Malik turned around with a small smile, looking Altair up and down. “I will tell you novice, as soon as you shut up already.”

 

Altair offered him just a lopsided grin and Malik pulled up a chair, sighing again. “I think I start where we got separated”, he said and Altair leaned a bit forward so he could better listen.

 

Malik started talking.


	20. Chapter 20

“I fought in the war Altair, I was an ancient assassin once – you don't need to think I'm a helpless damsel in distress alright.”

  
  


Altair threw Malik a look and shrugged, “Just saying.” Malik groaned but didn't reply when he watched Altair crossing the street, talking to somebody who was working outside the club before he decided to move further into the shadows of the alley he was waiting at. 

  
  


Malik took a deep breath and leaned heavily against the wall, looking up the early morning sky. This was the first time he got some quiet to himself ever since he and Altair escaped from Abstergo's headquarter with the help of Lucy. His ears were ringing like they did after a wild night full of parties with loud music, like when he was finally at home in the quiet again, still remembering the beat of the music pulsating underneath his skin. He almost felt hangover too. It had been like a wild ride with Altair so far and it was frightening how easy they had fallen back into their old roles. They didn't have much of a choice did they? It was either submitting to their ancient selfs or letting Abstergo catch them but now, now that Malik felt the quiet for the first time ever since all this shit happened, he pushed his demanding Assassin back to the corner of his head and took a deep shuddering breath. He'd fought in the war, he knew how to keep a cool head in heated moments and he knew just how fucked up people could act when it came to save their own lives. He'd seen grown up men pushing small children aside to escape from a collapsing building, had seen children running past knocked over women while running from the flames of a missile. He'd seen shit, both as a soldier and a child who grew up in a war ridden country. It wasn't much of a task for Malik to act rational when it was needed and it seemed as if his ancient self was an expert on that matter, but now...

  
  


Malik looked back up to the other side of the street. Altair was going inside and Malik wiped his face with one hand. He didn't know how long it would take for Altair to get what they needed but he also didn't care. Before all of this had happened, he'd had a _life_ and while the only person he considered family had died in combat, that didn't mean there weren't others he cared about. He reached with one hand into his pocket, some change jingling. Good.

  
  


Malik made his decision and went further down the alley, walking fast and after a short while, started jogging until he reached another street where he looked right, then left and saw the object of his desire down at another corner. Once he reached the telephone he threw some coins in, quickly dialing a number.

  
  


“St. Joseph Hospital, this is Dareen speaking. How may I help you?”

  
  


Malik was nervous, even his hands were trembling and for somebody who'd spent years and years with keeping still while waiting for his target to arrive in front of his gunsight that meant a lot. He released a low breath, “Yes, I was wondering if you could transfer me to the room of one of your patients. Her name's Marta Rodriguez, she was brought to your hospital a few days ago...”

  
  


The woman at the other end of the line hummed and he could hear her typing something on a keyboard. “I'm sorry but we don't have a patient with that name”, she said thoughtful after a while.

  
  


“But I got your call just on Tuesday, I'm on her list of contacts in case of emergency”, Malik said with a frown, turning around to look down the street in both directions. 

  
  


“Tuesday you say?”

  
  


Malik nodded, “Yes.”

  
  


Dareen took a sharp breath of air and Malik went tense, straightening his back. “Oh.”

  
  


And all of the tension drained right away as he felt as if somebody had ripped out his spinal cort, slowly strangling him with it while his heart stopped a whole set of beats. “I found her sir”, the operator told him in a small voice. “Mrs. Rodriguez was taken to our hospital in Tuesday.”

  
  


Malik closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose and even though he already knew the answer, there was still hope lingering in his heart like an old rusty tip of a knife pierced through it. “Can I speak to her?”

  
  


“I'm sorry sir but she passed on Wednesday.”

  
  


Malik nodded again. “Alright”, he said in a broken voice and leaned against the telephone booth. “Thanks for your help”, he muttered and hung up. 

  
  


Cars were honking around him, people were rushing down the street to catch their bus or subway in order to make it to work on time. A few children were passing him, chattering and laughing with their heavy backpacks ready to go to school. A man in a cab was leaning out of his window and yelling down the street because there'd been a pileup and now was stuck in a traffic jam. Life went on around Malik and yet it felt as if his whole world had ended. He felt frozen, cold on the inside and as if he had just entered some sort of nightmare.

  
  


Marta was dead. The woman who'd given him and Kadar a home as children, was dead. Only a week ago he'd sat with her in her kitchen, eating baklava. She had told him about being kicked out of her home and he hadn't told her back then, but he had already made plans to help her. Malik had never been a man who threw his money around him. He was humble, had been like this ever since he was a kid and grew up with nothing. He'd saved his money, had found somebody to take care of it... It wasn't much but it was enough that he would've been able to maybe buy Marta a room in a retirement home. He had sent his booker an email just when he'd arrived at work that day but ever since he'd gotten the call from St. Joseph and with Abstergo, he never had gotten the chance to check for an answer. 

  
  


He threw another quarter into the phone and waited for somebody to pick up. “Just who the hell is this?”, came the grumpy voice of a man through the line. “It's too damn early so this better be good.”

“Marc, it's Malik”, he said with a hoarse voice as if he hadn't spoken in years and he rubbed his eyes with one hand. “I need to ask you a favor.”

  
  


“Malik”, Marc said and he sounded a bit surprised. “Yeah I got your email but you never answered me. You just need to tell me how much you need and it won't be a problem I make the transfer.”

  
  


“Yes, no...” Malik sighed. “My plans have changed. I need all of it. In cash and now.”

  
  


Marc released a low whistle. “All of it? Now?”, he repeated and Malik groaned.

  
  


“Yes. Can you do it?”

  
  


“I- shit, Malik it doesn't work like this. I need at least three days to get such an amount of money in cash, fuck – why do you even need it? Wait. No, don't tell me. It's none of my business and I really don't care.”

  
  


Malik silently agreed with him on that. “I can offer you three hours.”

  
  


“Three hours? Are you fucking nuts?”

  
  


“Is that a yes or no Marc?”

  
  


“It's a no, look... Malik... What you're asking me for is impossible-”

  
  


“I pay you 25 %.”

  
  


There was silence for a long while and all Malik could hear was some breathing, then “Alright. Come to my place at noon.”

  
  


Malik smiled bitterly. “Thank you Marc.”

  
  


“Yeah fuck you”, and he hung up. 

  
  


Malik kept standing there for a while. Marta's death still weighted him down but at the same moment a whole new opportunity had opened up in front of him. He needed to make his way back to Altair.

  
  


He walked back down the street, trying to avoid to bump into other people. He could taste bitter bile at the back of his throat while his thoughts went zigzag in his mind, jumping from between Masyaf and Altair to Marta and Kadar, to an old life he wondered if it have ever been true to the mess he was currently in and back again. Marta was dead. Kadar was dead. All the strings leading to his old life had been cut through and even though Altair was a man he trusted, even though Altair was the only man he could rely on, Malik didn't want to turn back to him – the modern half of his personality was still blaming him while his ancient self reasoned that it was nothing but Abstergo's fault. Malik groaned and rubbed his temple – everything of this was just nuts.

  
  


He quickly found his way back to the alley but the sight he was greeted with didn't do anything to lower his blood pressure. “The fuck?”, Malik whispered as he looked around the dumpster he was hiding behind.

  
  


Altair had just pulled off his shirt and was now starting to open his belt to pull down his pants – whoever the guy was standing in front of Altair, he slowly started panicking as he watched the man strip.

  
  


“Fucking novice”, Malik hissed and watched next how a cop pulled up beside them, slowly getting out and walking towards Altair. He quickly tried to catch the number printed on the car. 31. Alright. Altair was arrested, put into the backseat and Malik saw how they drove off, leaving the man behind who in turn pulled out his cell immediately, dialing a number and holding it up to his ear. Malik thought about what would be the better option – following the man or getting to the 31st police department? Or maybe he'd just go to meet up with Marc and trust for Altair to be a big boy and taking care of himself.

  
  


Malik sighed. He was certain that the man was an Abstergo guy and it probably wouldn't take long until more of them would arrive. No. He wouldn't risk that. He didn't want to take it up with Abstergo, he just wanted to get back to his old life and leave everything behind.

  
  


Malik turned around. If he would catch the next train, he'd be just in time at Marc's. 

  
  


  
  


xxx

  
  


  
  


“Here. That's all. Minus the 25 % this is all what you get.”

  
  


Malik collected the money sprawled on top of the table in front of him, putting the bills into a plain envelope. “Thought it would have been more but this is alright”, Malik muttered and looked up at Marc. He didn't remember anymore how he met Marc the first place just that when he came back from overseas and when he got out of the military, he was there and administrating his money. He probably got the tip from one of his comrades or something. Malik didn't really care. What he cared for was the money in his hands and what opportunities it would give him. “I'm not even going to ask you how you got this so fast”, he said with a frown and Marc leaned back on his kitchen chair, spreading his arms to each side of his body.

  
  


“I'd prefer if you wouldn't ask either but hey, I delivered right? So everything's alright.”

  
  


Malik scoffed. Everything was far away from being alright but this wasn't the time nor the place to talk about, not to mention Marc was probably the last person he wanted to tell about his problems with Abstergo. “Yeah, right”, he muttered and put the envelope into the pocket of his jacket. Then he sighed and his hands sunk into his lap. “Marc... look, there's a reason why I asked you to do this-”

  
  


“I really don't wanna hear it.”

  
  


Malik looked up. “Yes and I really don't gonna tell you about it just- Maybe some guys will come looking for me so I suggest you maybe stay at a friend's for a couple of days.”

  
  


Marc looked at him and his eyes went wide, eyebrows arched and he released a deep sigh. Then he shook his head. “Whatever it is Malik, I honestly don't care. What I care for is this”, he said and held up his amount of money. “It's touching how much you care about my well being but I'm not going anywhere.”

  
  


Malik pursed his lips but nodded eventually. “Alright. Not like as if I didn't warn you”, he said and pushed himself off the table and got up. Marc got up as well and for a booker, he lived in one shit hole of an one room apartment. The kitchen slash bathroom was dirty, the couch also Marc's bed and somehow Malik thought this wasn't really Marc's place but more something like some sort of very strange office. 

  
  


“Give me a call when you need a good booker again”, he grinned and pulled Malik into a hug, patting his back roughly. 

  
  


Malik snorted. “I doubt it”, he said but winked at Marc who stood in the door leaning against the frame, arms crossed in front of his chest.

  
  


“Everybody says that but sooner or later they all come back to me”, he laughed and waved Malik off before he went back into his apartment, the door falling shut again. 

  
  


Malik shook his head and smiled, walking down the hall and heading for the stairwell. The building Marc was living in was in bad shape, there was an elevator but it wasn't working so Malik had no choice but to take the stairs to get from the 5th floor downstairs.

  
  


“Mr. Al-Sayf?”

  
  


He whirled around when the voice came out of the shadows. “Who wants to know?”, he said slowly, his whole body going tense while he was preparing himself to fight his way out of the building. 

  
  


“A friend”, the man said, his face hidden by the shadows but Malik could hear the smile in his voice as well as the Russian accent. 

  
  


“I don't have friends”, Malik growled but the man chuckled.

  
  


“Well, let's say then I'm an ally.” 

  
  


“I don't have allies”, Malik said and took a step back, is fingers curling into a tight fist. “You better tell me what you want or I make sure you'll eat through a straw for the next couple of weeks.”

  
  


“There really is no need for violence Mr. Al-Sayf. I'm not with Abstergo.”

  
  


Malik gritted his teeth. “How do you know about Abstergo?”

  
  


“A man like me just knows about them.”

  
  


“Just knows about them?” Malik arched an eyebrow and took another step back. If he had to he would kill the man and while he was still thinking about his next decision, the one-armed assassin inside of him wouldn't hesitate to rip out the man's heart if it meant it would save him some trouble. Apparently this was a flight or fight situation and while Malik was more keen of the idea to take flight, his ancient personality wanted to fight and Malik wondered why that was. Didn't it say to hide in plain sight? Do not compromise the Brotherhood? Or whatever was left of it. Malik didn't even know if the Order still existed.

  
  


“Abstergo is nothing but the modern Templar Order.”

  
  


Malik scoffed. “No shit Sherlock”, he told him and wrinkled his nose. 

  
  


“And I am not a Templar, Mr. Al-Sayf.”

  
  


“Then who are you?”, Malik pondered.

  
  


The man stepped out of the shadow, a smile indeed caressing his lips, dirty blond hair and a small beard on his chin. “My name's Daniel Cross. I'm with the Brotherhood.” 


	21. Chapter 21

****

  
  


“Let's just say I've found a friend.”

  
  


“A friend.” Altair rose his eyebrows at Malik once he was close to the end of his story. “A friend”, he repeated and went through their room to the bar which was right in front of a large French window overlooking the valley with a view at the mountains, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “Malik, we don't have friends”, Altair said sternly and stared at the other man from his position on the king sized bed, legs folded underneath him Indian style. “So what, you were one of those kids who believed they guy who told them he had candy in his van? Are you that naïve?” Malik clicked his tongue at Altair as he walked around the bar, leaning against it. “Don't act like a novice - but if it hadn't been for him I would have maybe made a terrible mistake... and you as well, I might add. Without him, I wouldn't be standing here now”, he said with an arched eyebrow and rose his glass to Altair before taking a sip of the amber liquid. “Don't be so dramatic Malik”, Altair muttered and stood slowly, stretching before bending down to get his shoes off, kicking them across the room and pulling his shirt out of his pants. “How did you get that guy's number then? How could you call me?” Altair leaned back on his arm. “Malik, seriously – you've hardly answered a question of mine.” 

  
  


“Oh, frustrating isn't it?”, Malik purred with a bitter sweet smile before taking another sip of his beverage. “It's how I feel every time when I talk with you.”

  
  


“Oh shut it”, Altair growled and sent Malik a glare. “I've told him to meet you there, I knew at which police department you were hold and I just took a wild guess you're still there – to be honest I've thought you maybe gave that cop a bloody nose so they have more reason to keep you there”, Malik chuckled. “I've thought about it for a moment but I actually had plans to get out of there”, Altair told him with a roll of his eyes. “Right”, Malik muttered and hid his smile behind his glass. “He'd told me he's with the Brotherhood.”

  
  


At that Altair went very still, head cocked like a dog who didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to sit on the bed. “The Brotherhood?”, he repeated dumbly and watched how Malik was crossing the distance before he crouched down in front of the bed so he and Altair were on the same eye level again. “There are people worthy to trust in this time Altair”, Malik said in a gentle tone. “We're not the only ones”, he smiled and reached for Altair's face with his free hand, cupping his cheek.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“The Order's still alive.”

  
  


“Bullshit”, Altair scoffed and tried to get away from Malik's touch by leaning aside and away from him but he just put his glass down and crawled after Altair, forcing him to lay down on the bed with his back meeting the mattress, hovering above him. “Why?”, Malik hummed, looking confused. “What have you seen I haven't?” He could no longer stand Malik's gaze, could not longer stand their close proximity. “What do you know?”, he asked Altair again but he kept silent. “Altair”, Malik said again and leaned closer still, he could smell the whiskey on his breath as it brushed over his face. “The man you sent”, Altair said eventually, his voice hoarse, “was a Templar.”Malik blinked at him. “Of course he was.” Altair took a sharp breath in, then started to sit up but Malik pushed against his shoulder to keep him in place, legs tightening around his waist so he had him in a hold. Malik saw how Altair's eyes gazed over for a tiny moment, making them look a bit... milky before they returned back to normal. “I don't understand”, Altair said.

  
  


“Then maybe I need to tell you some more”, Malik purred and when he kissed Altair it tasted bitter. He turned his head away. He had no idea what had happened in the hours he and Malik had been separated but this, all of this seemed so out of character. “Are you one of them?”, he suddenly asked sharply and finally managed to push Malik off of him, rolling away from underneath him and eying him. “Well?”

  
  


Malik looked confused, gnawing on his lip. “Are you serious?”

  
  


“Yes”, Altair nodded. “I am. You- you've sent somebody, somebody you knew was a Templar. Why?”

  
  


“Because he would have killed me if I would have played along with him”, Malik said carefully and wiped his face only to stand up again leaving Altair on the bed by himself. “And also because we needed to know what there next move would be.”

  
  


“We?”

  
  


“I've told you Altair. Our Order is not gone yet.” Malik picked his whiskey back up. “You didn't have to knock out that boy though. He's a good one. You've hit him hard enough to almost split his head in half.” Altair frowned. “Malik are you going to fucking tell me already?”

  
  


“I've send the boy to get you out of jail. Vidic had sent one of his own boys after me. I remember him from Marta's apartment, saw him lurking there. He told me such a great story I've actually believed him for a moment you know?” Malik scoffed and shook his head. “I can understand why you don't want to trust anybody in this word Altair but I know we won't be able to win this war if we don't start working together with them.” 

  
  


“Listen to you”, Altair muttered. “You don't understand anything of this. After all these years you still don't get it, do you?”

  
  


Malik frowned. “Get what.”

  
  


“This isn't about _us_ or _them_!”, Altair snarled. “There is no right and wrong, Malik. This war has been going own for centuries now and why, what for? Because we've all believed the lies which had been fed to us. This was is nothing but a big delay, something to keep us occupied!” 

  
  


“What do you mean?”

  
  


“I've figured it out”, Altair said quietly, his shoulders slumping as if he was drained of all of his energy. “I've figured it all out... I only didn't want to see it all these years.”

  
  


“Then tell me”, Malik said, his fingers turning white from how tight he held the glass. 

  
  


“When the time is right I will”, Altair murmured and Malik turned away with a frustrated sigh, walking up to the big windows. “I swear one day I'm going to kill you Altair”, he said, his words like pure venom. Altair pressed his lips tightly together. “I need you to trust me on this Malik”, he said eventually in a quiet tone. “You want me to trust you but you think I'm a Templar?”

  
  


“What choice did you leave me Malik?” Altair looked sharply up at him. “Every time I look at you I see the man I've grown up with in Masyaf and a moment later I think I don't know you at all anymore.”

  
  


“Yeah”, Malik scoffed, “you think growing up in this world makes you a bit different.” He looked at him over his shoulder. “You expect me to be the same when this life is so much different from the one I had back at Masyaf? That's real naïve Altair.”

  
  


“Then give me the chance to understand you. You want to end this war?”, Altair asked and made little quotation marks in the air. “For whom? Who is it you want your revenge for? I know what they took from me but what did they take from you?”, Altair asked and while his words had been sharp at first, they ended in a soft murmur. He watched Malik staring out of the window, not moving at all. “Who was that Marta?”, Altair asked eventually while he sat back onto the bed, rubbing his head with both hands. When Malik didn't answer Altair looked back up. “Well?”

  
  


“Marta was a friend that's all”, Malik muttered and stared into his glass. 

  
  


“A friend you would have spend all your savings on?”

  
  


Malik's head snapped up and he stared angrily at Altair. “Yes, if you want to know, yes I would have if it hadn't been for Abstergo.” His words were unforgiving and hitting Altair like blows – alright, so this was a sensitive topic for him. He held both his hands up, palms showing. “Alright”, Altair said allaying. “I get it, she was important for you but you don't want to share”, he muttered and maybe it hurt him just a little that Malik wouldn't tell him about his past life, that he still kept him outside even after everything they've been through. Altair scoffed. Whatever. He'd thought they'd been past this after their night together but it seemed like that was just an illusion. “Altair...” He looked up. Malik was standing in front of him, his glass abandoned at the bar. “Don't be so arrogant to think this has anything to do with you.”

  
  


“I'm not”, Altair murmured and looked back down on his fingers, inspecting his nails. 

  
  


“Oh for fuck's sake, are you jealous of a dead woman?”

  
  


“No!” Altair looked mortified. “Fuck no, I'm not jealous”, he scoffed again but hey, maybe he was and he just couldn't name it yet but Malik was able to look right through him. “The way how you speak about her she seems more like a mother to you, I- ugh, I'm not jealous Malik.”

  
  


“You are”, Malik hummed and sat down next to Altair, “But not in the way you might think now.” 

  
  


“Could we not have this conversation now?”

  
  


“Why not?”, Malik pondered. “It seems every time we two are together it comes back to... _us_ eventually.” Altair just pursed his lips and didn't say anything. “Come on, you've wanted to talk about this _all the time_! Now I'm offering it you and you refuse? What's this?”

  
  


“I've- Okay, you know what? I'v had enough of this.” Altair pointed at Malik. “Give me a fucking break alright?”

  
  


“What?” Malik seemed confused, then it dawned on him and he narrowed his eyes. “Don't tell me you have a breakdown. Not now.”

  
  


“Well maybe I do”, Altair muttered and the rage was gone just as suddenly as it had come, leaving nothing but a burnt out Altair behind. “Adha was precious to me and I have failed her”, Altair muttered. “Maria was my soul mate and I've failed her. I've failed the one person I've ever truly loved with all my heart.” 

  
  


“I believe you when you say losing Maria was hard”, Malik said softly. “We both made our sacrifices and I can only imagine how it feels to wake up and to suddenly remember and mourn a woman you've loved-”

  
  


“I wasn't talking about Maria.”

  
  


Malik blinked at Altair who'd had stopped walking and was now standing in front of the big French window, looking outside. “But you just said you've failed the one person you ever loved.”

  
  


“Don't get me wrong. On some level I loved Maria but-”

  
  


“But she wasn't the one, was she?”, Malik said carefully as it suddenly dawned on him. “It was always Adha.”

  
  


“No”, Altair said while his eyes roamed over the mountains in the far distance, their tops looking like the fangs of a wild animal piercing the horizon. “It's always been you.” 


	22. Chapter 22

There was a long moment of silence and Altair felt Malik's gaze heavily on his back. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He'd waited so long to say this now. He'd meant to say it centuries ago but he hadn't been strong enough back then. Today he would say he didn't have the balls back then. Altair had always been afraid of this although he would have never openly admitted to it. Emotions were for the weak, that's what Al Mualim had taught him. It had taken him far too long to understand that it simply wasn't true, that admitting your fears was something that only made you stronger. 

  
  


“What do you mean?”, Malik asked slowly and Altair sighed. 

  
  


“I've been trying to tell you so many times Malik”, he said and his voice was hoarse, “and the moment in which I've seen you die finally opened my eyes and I realized I had so much to regret. I had a lifetime to regret that I've never told you. I realized that I was doing the same mistake again. Well Malik, fuck me if I'm not a clever boy who learns from his mistakes”, Altair said and turned around, facing the other man. “I'm only going to say this once so you better listen.” For a moment he faltered, his gaze falling down to Malik's chest before he was able to find his balance again. “I love you. I've always loved you and every time I've tried to tell you, you'd said what I feel isn't true because nothing is true. Well here's a fucking newsflash, that's a load of bullshit and we both know it. The only question is what is it for you? Am I nothing but a fuck? Because I won't be able to keep doing this.”

  
  


For a moment Malik looked confused, almost broken but then his face turned into a hard mask. “Oh don't you turn this around now”, he hissed at Altair. “Don't you dare to turn this around and make me look as if I'm the bad guy here.”

  
  


“You're not?”, Altair pondered.

  
  


Malik sent him a sharp look. “No I'm not. But if you want to turn this into a soap opera, be my guest and go ahead Altair.”

  
  


Altair looked stunned, didn't say anything for a very long while. When he was about to open his mouth again, Malik cut right through his words. “This is something not happening Altair”, he said and for a moment, Altair thought he looked almost as if he was sorry. “I won't lay with you, tell you I love you. I won't ever call you my lover. You're my brother and you'll always be my brother but-”

  
  


He turned away, hands placed on his hips and taking a deep breath while he looked out the windows. “No it's alright”, he said although it really wasn't. Nothing was alright. His world was at chaos and Malik was burning him alive. He'd had this silly thought that maybe in this time they could be what law and order had forbidden them to be back in Masyaf.

  
  


“It just isn't me”, Malik said again and now, now he could hear the pity in his words and it made him sick enough that he feared he'd have to puke right here and now. He felt a hand on his shoulder, not realizing how much he was shaking. “I've seen through your mask a long time ago”, Malik continued. “You always try so hard, don't you? Especially back in Masyaf. You were trying so hard to not let people see what a scared little boy you are. Ever since your father died, you've thought you had to become a man. You tried so hard to be all grown up at eleven years old, you forgot an important part of yourself. But I didn't Altair, I saw that boy in you, even when you've thought you're so aloof and so untouchable. You're not. You truly live up to your name, you're a burning star but one day, even stars burn out. You're a passionate man but you don't know anything about love.”

  
  


Altair took a deep breath in, fingers curling into fists. He gritted his teeth. “So I see...”

  
  


Malik squeezed his shoulder. “I don't mind sharing a bed with you.”

  
  


Oh, he didn't _mind_. Great.

  
  


“And what we've done together is nothing I regret”, Malik added. “But it won't ever turn into something more.”

  
  


“You say I'm a boy in a grown man's body, isn't it?” Altair's words sounded colder than he wanted them to be. He didn't want to show how any of Malik's words got to him – he didn't want to prove him in any way right.

  
  


“Not... exactly”, Malik said and Altair felt how he added some pressure his touch. He wanted him to turn around but he couldn't.

  
  


“So I'm an emotional cripple, is that what you're saying? I'm not capable of feeling love?”

  
  


“Oh no. Nonono, Altair, you do”, Malik said quickly. “You're like a supernova...”

  
  


“Oh great”, Altair scoffed and turned away, crossing the distance to the small bar and pouring himself a whiskey. He usually wasn't much of a drinker, he didn't like it how alcohol clouded his mind. But right now he felt as if he needed to erase his existence. “Why do you always make it sound as if I'm already dead?”

  
  


“Because you are”, Malik simply said and it was now that Altair looked up, seeing that Malik hadn't moved at all. “You are dead. Just like me. We're simply ghosts walking among a world we weren't meant for.”

  
  


“No”, Altair shook his head, angrily. “We're not. Not yet”, he said with a grim smile and straightened his shoulders, taking a sip of the whiskey and swallowed it all in one go. “Not until it's over.”

  
  


Malik sighed. “Alright”, he said slowly and run his fingers through his hair. “Okay. So what now? Aside our little soap opera. What now, Altair?”

  
  


“We need to go to the start of this and we need to leave the country.”

  
  


“We can't just walk into an airport, Abstergo-”

  
  


“Yes I know Malik. That's why I was going back to New York, I need my Wonderboy.”

  
  


Malik snorted. “You make it sound like as if you're talking about a sex toy”, he grinned a little and just like that, some of the tension eased off Altair's shoulders and turned it instead into a tiny knot at the pit of his stomach. Not yet forgotten but he was able to ignore the burning feeling of hurt for now. 

  
  


“I wish he was”, Altair said and the look on Malik's face was priceless. Good. It seemed as if Malik liked fucking him but he still got jealous. Altair knew the truth though. Malik could pretend all he wanted, there would be the moment when he'd crumble in front of him again, like he did that night at the motel. The moment would come and maybe it was a little sad, but Altair would be there and wait for him. “He's a clever boy I've worked with together and who just happens to have a pilot license.” He watched how Malik put one and one together and his eyebrows arechd.

  
  


“Oh if that doesn't come in handy”, he commented dryly.

  
  


“It does indeed, doesn't it? He's our only chance to get out of America and to fly all the way to Europe.” 

  
  


“I'm sure if we'd work with the Brotherhood they could charter us a plane and-”

  
  


“No.” Altair shook his head, eyes dark again. “I won't work with one of them. I've told you Malik, this isn't about the Assassins or the Templars. The only thing that differs the Brotherhood from the Templar Order is that they're neither allies or fiends with the Templars clearly being our fiends.”

  
  


Malik gnawed on his bottom lip while Altair poured himself another glass of whiskey. “Don't tell me know we need to get back to NYC? The city's nothing but a big Templar nest.”

  
  


“Newark”, Altair said and wrinkled his brow as if he was thinking. “I don't like going back myelf but then again, maybe they don't expect us to-”

  
  


“Like they didn't expect us to stay in the city after we escaped the first time? This is bullshit Altair. It feels like we're moving in circles which actually seems to be pretty true. We leave the city, we go back to the city, we leave the city and now we wanna go back... So what's then?”

  
  


Altair gritted his teeth so much it hurt his jaw. He would never admit it out loud but Malik had pretty much found the right words for their dilemma. “I know”, he said between his teeth. “But if we find Desmond, he can fly us out of the country. That's all I really wanna do. Get out of the fucking state.”

  
  


“And go where?”

  
  


“Berlin”, Altair said, bobbing his head.

  
  


“Why Berlin?”

  
  


Altair looked up. “Because that's where it'll end.”

  
  


  
  


  
  


xxx

  
  


“You two look like fucking brothers.”

  
  


“Malik, I like you to meet Desmond and yes, he's like this all the time”, Altair said as he shoved himself past Desmond to get into the man's small apartment. Malik thought it was more of a hole than anything else. Malik followed him shortly after, didn't even wait for any invention. It clearly showed on Demond's face that he had no idea what was going on. It only took him a minute or two to break free from his stupor, enough for Malik to look around the small apartment. There was a bed -not made and with a naked girl in it who somehow managed to sleep through Altair's knocking on the door which was basically Altair almost kicking in the door- a sink and a toilet behind a curtain with a shower as well and a windowsill with a portable hotplate and a... plastic bag hanging out of the window which what looked like some cheese, meat and milk in it. Huh, that was a clever way to keep your food cold when not owning a fridge, Malik assumed. It was definitely cold enough anyway.

  
  


“What the fuck is going on here?”, Desmond and said and closed the door rather loudly which finally woke the girl up. She looked confused and with small eyes at Desmond, then at Altair and Malik. “Is that your brother?”, she asked and shrieked a second later when Altair pulled her blanket away and grabbed what he thought was her shirt at the same time, and shoved it at her. “Get dressed, then out.”

  
  


“What?”, she asked in disbelieve and looked horrified at Desmond, covering her breasts with the little tank top. “Desmond!”

  
  


“That's mine”, Desmond and said and took the top from her, which earned all three of them another high shriek coming from the girl before Desmond grabbed the dress hanging from one of his bedposts. She looked at it, still very confused but then decided for the better of it and stood up, naked, with her head up high like a proud lion. Altair rolled his eyes when she made a show of dressing, not minding with putting on her underwear but just took her boots, taking them on quickly and throwing her coat over her shoulders. She looked angry, pissed really and sent Altair and Malik a glare that could easily kill them before she turned with a bitter sweet smile towards Desmond. “Call me?”

  
  


“Probably”, Desmond said and ushered her rather gently towards his door, then closed it behind her. He leaned heavily against it with his back, before his glance fell on Malik and Altair. “So what the fuck is going on?”

  
  


“Do you still have your license?”, Altair asked while Malik sat down on a tiny patch of the bed that didn't look... used. 

  
  


“What license? Driver's-?”

  
  


“Pilot”, Altair said and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  
  


“What? Yeah, I do but why-”

  
  


“If we charter a plane can you do me a favor?”

  
  


Desmond sighed, frowned at Altair then at Malik and rubbed the back of his head before he pushed himself away from the door to go grab his shirt since he was only wearing boxers. “No.”

  
  


“No?” Altair's eyebrows arched. “Why?”

  
  


“I hardly know you? And Walker called me, told me you're looking for me, that you got yourself arrested in front of the club because you just stripped naked in the middle of NYC... two days later you show up at my place and ask me about my license and a favor, so no. No Altair, fuck you and get out. Whatever it is you're in, I don't wanna be a part of it.”

  
  


Altair sighed. “Desmond, I wouldn't have gone through all this trouble if I wouldn't know you're the only guy I can trust and-”

  
  


But Desmond held up his hand. “No. Don't even try, here's the door”, he said and pointed at the way out of his apartment. “Take your friend with you please and if you see the girl on your way out, tell her I won't call her.”

  
  


Malik chuckled dryly and all eyes turned towards him. When he realized he was at the center of attention, he looked slowly up. “You two really could be brothers. That's just awesome”, he said underneath another chuckle before he sighed and stretched. “You're a student Desmond, aren't you?”

  
  


The young man nodded. “And Altair told me you're a rather good one. I take it that you have a scholarship?”

  
  


Desmond shook his head. “I actually don't-”

  
  


“Oh really?”, Malik asked and stood up again. “How's your student loan?” 

  
  


Desmond blinked. “What?”

  
  


“How much are you in debt Desmond?”, Malik asked. “You might don't wanna do Altair a favor but maybe that'll change when you don't have to worry about your debts anymore?”

  
  


“Woha whoaa woh”, Desmond said and took a step back, holding up both his palms. “You can't buy me!”

  
  


“Everybody's bribable”, Altair said. “Even you Wonderboy.”

  
  


“Stop calling me that”, Desmond hissed at him.”

  
  


“But you are, aren't you?” Altair rose an eyebrow at him. “Desmond, alright. I'm fucking honest with you. I'm in so much shit I actually breath shit right now. And I'm almost sorry I'm dragging you into this-”

  
  


“Only almost?”

  
  


“Only almost”, Altair nodded. “But I have no other choice. Look, if I would I would have asked somebody else but there's no one I trust but you. So can you fly me and Malik out of the states or can you not?”

  
  


Desmond didn't even think. “No I can't.”

  
  


It was Malik who stepped forwards again. “I don't think you understand yet, Desmond. Who's after us will probably know we've been here in a few hours, maybe only tomorrow when we're lucky. But they _will_ know and they _will_ come after you. So Altair and I already took the decision from you coming here. So the question really isn't if you're going to help us but how we can keep the damage as small as possible. I'm sorry to break it like that to you but it doesn't seem fair for us to pretend nothing will probably happen to you. Like Altair said,we're in deep shit and we're not fucking kidding here Desmond.” 

  
  


“Is he serious?”, Desmond asked Altair who only nodded in return. 

  
  


Altair nodded and Desmond rubbed his face with both palms. “Fucking shit”, he muttered between his fingers. “I fucking hate you Altair.”

  
  


To Malik's surprise the man's lips broke into a smile. “It's nice to hear you're still the clever boy I know Desmond. Malik and I will take care of the plane.” 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm fucking nervous posting this :/

Altair didn't like flying, he'd never really liked it. He hated the feeling of being dependent on something so big like a plane, nothing more but a cube of metal, wires and electronics which he was supposed to trust. No, he didn't like flying because it meant he didn't have control and Altair was a person who needed to be in control at all times because it meant he was in control of his own life and he would like to stand alive, thank you very much. He didn't trust others, had never really trusted his Brothers back at Masyaf which had turned him into a bitter man, rather starving than to share a meal with others. Damn pride, it had never done him any good but ruined everything he'd loved. 

  
  


Altair sat up in his seat a little and looked out the window. It was dark outside, they were flying with the night and would arrive in Berlin around sunrise. Malik had managed to charter a propeller-driven plane, a King Air 350 that was usually used for business trips and which could only host nine to twelve people. Desmond hadn't even asked how he'd gotten it and Altair had wanted to know but decided against it and simply accept it as they boarded. 

  
  


He heard movement along the loud noise of the propellers working but didn't look up. A few seconds later somebody slumped into the seat next to Altair. “I asked Desmond, he says with the current tailwind we're having it's only two to three more hours till we arrive.” Malik was silent for a moment, rubbing his chin before he sighed, speaking again “We should contact somebody at our arrival, they could help us.” They being the new Brotherhood. He didn't trust the 'new' Brotherhood.

 

“Were do we need to go?”, Malik pondered as he shifted in the seat next to Altair after he'd pulled out a map of Berlin, putting it down in front of them.

 

Altair glanced over at him. “We need to go to the old Reichs Chancellery shelter-”

 

“What now?”

 

“It's not too far away from the Brandenburg Gate.” 

 

“I've thought the Germans destroyed the Reichs Chancellery shelter... wasn't that where Hitler committed suicide?” Altair pursed his lips. “Yes and it was... destroyed.” Altair made little quotation marks in the air without looking at Malik. “At least that's what the government told the people but-”

 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Malik put his hand on Altair's shoulder and turned him towards him. “It's not destroyed? And you know that because...?” He made a little inviting gesture so Altair would start talking but all he did was pursing his lips. “Well?”, Malik urged him to just spill it when Altair kept silent and Malik sighed heavily, groaned and rolled his eyes. “Altair, the whole world thinks that this thing is destroyed, they actually showed it on TV and all and look, there's a parking lot now where the exit was used to be and you are trying to tell me it's not? That it's all just a lie?”

 

Altair growled darkly at Malik, eyes narrowed. “Nothing is true.”

 

“And everything is permitted”, Malik nodded, his voice gentle now. “Altair – tell me. I'm going to find out sooner or later anyway.”

 

“I've been there.”

 

There was a moment of silence. “What?”

 

“I've been down there when I was younger.”

 

Malik stared at him. “What?”, he repeated and Altair rose one eyebrow at him. “You have a very limited vocabulary my friend”, Altair said and flashed him a small grin. “But how?” Malik simply ignored the small remark. “Somebody showed me the way.”

 

“How? The entrance has been shut for decades now-”

 

“It was never the only entrance you know? Believe me, it's open.”

 

“Open.” Malik looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. 

 

“Yes open and when we go down there, we'll find something.” 

 

Malik sighed and run his fingers through his mess of hair. “Alright so... yeah okay, fuck. Whatever Altair, what's your plan then?”

 

“We take the bus, the M100. Drive down to the Star and get out there, walk along the Siegesmeile and then enter near the Brandenburg Gate.”

 

“So from how you tell it, we go the other way around. Why don't we just go straight to the Bundestag?”

 

“Too many cameras”, Altair hummed and pursed his lips. “I'm sure Abstergo already knows we're on our way to Berlin but I'm pretty sure they don't know about the entrance. I know you think highly of your little 'friend' but even if it's true what Connor told you, I don't trust the modern day Brotherhood to keep Abstergo from our heels.”

 

“How would you know?”, Malik asked, completely ignoring the little stab to his past decision in trusting a boy who seemed to be connected to Malik through Marta. 

 

“Remember what I've told you? That I finally understand all of this?” Malik nodded. “Because they've put me into the Animus. I finally understand now what they were looking for and luckily, I woke before they could get to the right memory.”

 

“So when you said somebody took you down here... Who were you talking about?” Altair nodded quietly, fingers brushing over the plastic of the seat in front of him. “Remember when I was on a mission in France?” He knew Malik knew he was talking about Masyaf.

 

Malik nodded.

 

“After I've killed Alain I went to Germany. He'd said Robert's with JHWH and I knew he was talking about Solomon's Temple but I also knew the Templars had gathered in Prussia and most of them were going to Jersualem from there, so I wanted to know why they are in Prussia when they've found something so important at Solomon's Temple. They were looking for the Ark of the Covenant.”

 

“But the Ark was at Solomon's Temple, we've seen it there”, Malik said and blinked his eyes at Altair.

 

Altair nodded.”Yes I know because Robert had ordered to bring the Ark there. They found it in an old temple underneath a small village, a village which later grew into Berlin-” The puzzle fell into its place just then and Malik looked at him, nodding as the picture in front of him finally made senses. “And the temple's location is now underneath the Reichstag”, Malik said.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“So you've been down there and know the other entrance.”

 

“I've followed some of the Templars there.” Altair scoffed. “You know, they took the Ark when there was something by far more powerful down there.”

 

“And what's down there?”

 

Altair looked up, his eyes a thousand years old as it seemed as if he was losing himself in a long lost memory and Malik swallowed thickly. “If I'm right about it, we will find the Chalice there.”

 

“The Chalice”, Malik said in pure disbelieve. “Right. The Chalice was something you were sent to-”

 

“Sent to retrieve before Solomon's Temple.” 

 

“But you've failed, Adha's-”

 

“Dead. Did you ever think we're the only ones in this time Malik? If it's right what Vidic has told me then every single person on this planet holds the memories of their ancestor's.”

 

“Memories... Memories and being that person from the past are two different things.”

 

“I'm not considering myself being Altair-”

 

“No, you just share the same looks, same name, same memories but you're right, you're totally not him”, Malik scoffed and arched an eyebrow at him. “Come on Altair – you're... special.”

 

“Shut it”, Altair growled. 

 

“Isn't it strange you're the great Altair Ibn'La-Ahad-”

  
  


“I am _not_ Altair”, Altair interrupted him but Malik didn't care.

  
  


“- and you even share the same name? Come to think why it took Abstergo so long to find you, no?”

  
  


Altair looked at Malik from the corner of his eye.“I didn't always go by that name”, he muttered and at Malik's puzzled look, he added “Altair.”

  
  


“Why?”, Malik pondered and scooted closer and Altair let him.

  
  


“My parents died when I was seventeen. We were moving a lot, my father was in the military and I was at that certain age where you wanted to know where you're roots are – especially after I've lost my parents. I did some research on my own but I couldn't follow all the way back but was happy when I was able to learn something about my great-great-grandparents. Their name was Ibn'La-Ahad and-”

  
  


“So why Altair?”, Malik interrupted him. At that he saw Altair smiling sadly.

  
  


“It's what my father liked to call me. Little eagle.”

  
  


Malik looked at him and Altair could see after a few seconds how he gritted his teeth, then bit his lips to keep himself from laughing. “Fuck you”, he hissed a short while later and by now Malik didn't even try anymore to hold it in. 

  
  


“No, no – come on Altair, I'm sorry”, Malik chuckled. “But you have to admit it's just too cute a story.” He snorted. “So what's your real name?”

  
  


Altair looked at him for a long while, still angry about his teasing but in the end crumbled like old salt dough. “Amir.”

  
  


“It's close”, Malik noted and rubbed his chin, grinning a little. 

  
  


“When I returned to the US I changed my name to Altair Ibn'La-Ahad.”

  
  


“Without knowing it's heavy burden, I see.” Malik pursed his lips and put the tips of his fingers together while he leaned down on his knees. “How did your parents die?”

  
  


“Car accident”, Altair simply said. “At least that's what they've told me.”

  
  


“You think it was something else?”

  
  


Altair shook his head. “No, it was a car accident but-”

  
  


“But?”

  
  


“My father was stationed in Germany at that time, he was with the Air Force and we lived at the base in Ramstein. My parents had sent me to school near Munich, a boarding school. They've wanted to visit me on the holidays.” Altair laughed dryly. “My father always thought the Germans are fucking insane for having no speeding limit... but he secretly loved it to drive down the Autobahn.” Altair looked up, eyes hard and his gaze bore right through Malik. “There was this woman, her name was Elise Knecht, she was sixty five years old, had lost her husband two years ago. She was living in Munich, a nice old lady who didn't always have it easy in life. After her husband had died she'd had to sell almost everything to afford the funeral but there was one thing she wanted to keep. It was her late husband's Mercedes, a 300 SE. It's all she got left of him.” He looked up, Malik was watching him with confusion washing over his face. “They didn't have children, she was all by herself. She drove down the Autobahn with her Mercedes the same day my parents came to visit me. She was driving down the wrong side, hitting my parent's car at around 200 km/h. They were all dead on impact. The police told me Elise had just found out that she had lung cancer, the doctors told her she had maybe six month left. Well...” Altair sighed. “Elise decided to not die in some hospital but end her life by her own. Too bad she chose a way that not only killed her but my parents too.”

  
  


“How do you know all of that?”, Malik pondered carefully.

  
  


“Police told me afterwards once they've found her note. They also searched Elise's home and found a nine millimeter Magnum, not registered and Elise didn't have a gun license. I think... I think she wanted to shoot herself. I mean why would you purchase a weapon, an illegal weapon? I think it just doesn't make any sense for her to change her mind and then take her husband's car to kill herself.”

  
  


“Maybe she wanted to die where she felt home – I mean, you've told me she lost everything after her husband's death, his car was the only thing left for her. I think it makes sense for her to choose it not only as the place where she wanted to die but also as the weapon.”

  
  


Altair rubbed his face, “I'm not sure Malik, not after Abstergo. Vidic knew about my parent's death, he even showed me fucking pictures. I'm starting to think Abstergo is fucking bigger than the US government itself, bigger than the NSA or CIA.”

 

“Weren't you the one who told me a man can't run from his fate?” Malik could see how Altair worked his jaw, how the muscle in it twitched as he gritted his teeth. He'd hit a raw nerve, he knew that.

 

“Maybe...”

 

“You think we'll find Adha”, Maik said slowly, after it dawned on him. “I actually think you've lost your mind. You think we'll find here in some kind of coffin, just waking up like the Sleeping Beauty?”

 

“No. I think we'll find parts of her there.”

 

“Parts.”

 

“Memories. Artifacts like the Apple, if it helps you to understand. It's like a puzzle Malik. We need to find the different pieces to put it all back together. In the end-”

 

“In the end we get the Chalice, alright, I get it.” 

 

“The only problem is...”

 

“The only problem is?”, Malik pondered and looked expectantly at Altair. Really, he was testing his patience way too much these days. 

 

“Abstergo has our frame”, and at Malik's puzzled look, he added: “The host.”

 

“The host?”

 

“For the Chalice. It isn't a thing Malik, it needs to be alive.”

 

“How do you know Abstergo has the host then?”

 

“I've felt it when I touched her. Why I didn't kill her. We've connected.”

 

“Who?”

 

Altair looked up at him. “Me and that Lucy girl.” 

 

 

xxx

 

 

“We've restored 65% of her sir. She's still in critical condition though - if she wakes before we're done-” The technician stopped, pursing his lips and looked up at Vidic. 

 

“What then?”

 

“If she wakes before we're done she'd still think she's in the year 1189.” Vidic rolled his eyes, it sounded familiar, something someone else had tried to warn him about before but he didn't listen back then and he certainly wouldn't listen now, not when he was so close to finish his lifework. He'd spent years, no, entire decades to come to this moment and he wouldn't let it ruin by some mere _boy t_ elling him what he could and couldn't do. No. “So? This could be to our advance, couldn't it?”, Vidic asked and leaned over the table, looking down at the woman.

 

“Unlikely sir. She would probably have a panic attack and we don't know how well she's able to control her powers... we could trigger a chain of terrible reactions.” He shook his head. “We need those memories. Without them she's nothing more but a vegetable.”

 

Vidic gnawed on his lips. This was what Lucy had warned him about not too long ago, about how dangerous it was to put Altair into the Animus – but in the end, putting Altair into the Animus had gotten him exactly what he'd wanted. “There are risks we need to take when it comes to science”, he muttered softly and more to himself than to anybody else. “Oh”, he said and held one finger up, the man looking at him confused. “I think I know how we get out of this little pickle we have”, Vidic smiled, cheerful and jolly and for a moment he could get mistaken for Santa Clause if only his belly was bigger and rounder. “If she's waking up now and think she's still in the year 1189 - then let us work with that.”

 

“Huh? Excuse me sir?” The man scratched himself in the neck.

 

Vidic's smile just got wider. “But it's so easy isn't it? If the only problem is us being in the wrong year then let us make it perfect for her to believe she's still in the year 1189...” It was as if new life was pumping through his vein, he hadn't felt this alive in years now. He looked over her naked body, cables with electronics sticking to her skin with a tube coming out of her mouth to help her breath, the soft beeping of the monitors around them almost held a soothing note, rising and falling with every breath she took. Vidic stroke the back of his hand down her blond hair, over one bare shoulder. He smiled, almost like a father would smile when holding his child for the first time in his hands. Lucy looked almost like the Sleeping Beauty if it weren't for all the medical support. 

 

He leaned down, close to her ear “Don't worry my little one. He'll come.”

  
  



	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The person finding my Easter Egg gets a Oneshot of their choice.

Malik watched Altair from the corner of his eye. He was sleeping which alone was pretty odd because Malik -more like his ancient side than him, really- remembered how Altair did most of the time  _ not _ sleep when they were still in Masyaf. Or no... wait. That wasn't correct – Malik just didn't have the time back then to watch Altair sleep. When they've been younger they've sometimes explored each others bodies but after the both of them were satisfied, they've parted again. Malik had never really watched Altair sleep which was now the reason why he did and why he found utterly joy from doing so because it somehow made him feel... at ease.

 

He'd always trusted Altair, had trusted him most of his life but he liked to categorize those times in 'Before Solomon's Temple' and 'After Solomon's Temple' because in between he'd have rather throttled Altair to death. It was different now, had been different for a long time and that was probably the reason why he felt so at ease watching Altair sleep because it meant they were  _ safe – _ at least for the moment and right now, a moment was enough to make Malik happy. He startled when he caught movement, a shadow rising over the plane's windows and he looked up when Desmond walked down the narrow aisle and flopped down in a chair opposite of Malik. He wore a grin on his lips and Malik wondered about it for a second before Desmond nodded with his chin at Altair. “Cute when he's asleep, isn't it?”

 

Malik blinked at him. “Uhm, what now?”, he asked dumbfounded and oh yeah, way to go to not sound like a complete idiot Malik! Desmond sighed and leaned forwards, elbows resting on his knees while the tips of his fingers touched. “You heard me”, he muttered instead, then looked up with a lopsided smirk on his lips. “You two are cute too.”

 

Malik snorted. “Whatever you think, believe me, it's probably wrong.”

 

“So, you fanboying all over Altair is not true?”

 

He looked horrified at Desmond. “The fuck- no!”

 

“I don't know man”, Desmond sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Looks pretty obvious to me but don't worry, I won't tell anybody”, he chuckled and placed his feet across his seat, making himself comfortable. “We arrive in about two hours so I have to head back there soon”, he said and pointed with his thumb at the door leading to the cockpit. “But I've wanted to talk some business first with you”, Desmond said and explained why he'd come back here. “Money. Now.”

 

Malik rubbed his chin, looking at the boy – because really, compared to him Desmond really was nothing but a boy. For Desmond claiming being not bribable he was pretty fast in getting his money but Malik couldn't really blame him. He wasn't sure if Desmond realized it yet but they've pretty much destroyed his life with them coming to him. He was certain Abstergo would find him rather sooner than later and then he'd be on the run too. He felt almost sorry for him at least as much as he could feel sorry for a boy he hardly knew. He sighed and felt Desmond's gaze laying heavily on him. “You get all of it once we've landed safe in Berlin”, he said eventually, watching how Desmond tilted his head to one side, staring into empty space before another grin spread across his face. “How can I trust you?”

 

“Well, there isn't much I can do sitting in an airplane at the airport is there? Not like as if I could go anywhere”, Malik snorted. He felt like the bad guys in one of those movies, where they hand big bags of money over and then, when the one receiving them opens them happily, everything blows up. Well, he didn't have a big ass bag of money, he simply had a check Desmond would have to cash in. He didn't know that yet and Malik was certain Desmond really was expecting one of those bags. 

 

“So what about once we arrive there? I just fly back, alone?”, he pondered curious, leaning forwards and taking his feet off the seat. 

 

Malik shrugged. “If I were you I would maybe take the time to explore some parts of the world.”

 

“I would?”, Desmond asked with both of his eyebrows rising. He reminded Malik of someone but he couldn't put his finger on it yet – probably a ghost he'd just seen, maybe caused by the lack of sleep he'd suffered from the last couple of days.

 

He nodded eventually. “I would”, he repeated and leaned back, sighing heavily. “People will come looking for you, asking about us... It'd be wise for you to vanish from earth before they can get to you.”

 

He watched how Desmond looked at him, dumbfounded before his eyes narrowed as if he didn't know what to think but then, a second later, his lips split into a smile and his eyes sparkled with something close to joy. “That one was good”, he told Malik and shook his finger at him. “I've almost believed you.”

 

“I wasn't joking”, Malik said dryly. When Desmond snorted, Malik scuffed back. “After everything Altair and I have asked of you and what we've told you... you honestly think I am joking? Really? And here I've thought your brain didn't have the size of a pea-”

 

“Hey!”

 

“- I mean, Altair called you Wonderboy and all.” He snorted. “Don't be stupid now.”

 

“I can't believe you two are expecting me to believe half of the shit you're talking about all the time”, Desmond said and now the smile had died on his lips and he leaned forwards, resting his arms on his knees with the tips of his fingers resting together.

 

“And yet here we are, no?”, Malik pondered, watching how Desmond nodded slowly. “It never was mine or his-” Malik nodded at Altair with his chin “-intention to do so.”

 

“Oh no, I believe _that_ ”, Desmond said. “It just...” He sighed again and rubbed the back of his head. “This sounds more like some sort of movie or game, wouldn't you agree?”

 

“I agree”, Malik said because he hadn't thought differently when Abstergo had gotten their fingers on him, pulling him away from his life as he knew it violently and thrown him straight into hell. “My life hasn't always been like that.”

 

“And how has it been then?”, Desmond asked now, all curious and he looked up at Malik.

 

Malik sighed, wondering just how much a boy like Desmond should know but then decided he deserved the truth. So he told him.

 

 

xxx

 

 

They arrived in Berlin the early morning with the sun hanging low across the city, dipping the urban canyons in deep shadows but its citizens were already busy, getting ready for work or coming home from it. A city like Berlin never slept, after all. It wasn't to their advance and Malik was somehow impressed how Desmond managed to get a landing permission but they did.

 

“This isn't going to be easy”, Altair muttered next to him as he leaned across Desmond's seat in the cockpit, watching how he turned towards the terminal ready to park the small plane, people were running around underneath them gesturing where Desmond had to go.

 

“We have fake passports, don't we?”, Malik pondered and stood up, back straight and shoulders pulled forwards with his left one slightly hanging down.

 

“We have but we still need to get out of this nightmare of airport.”

 

“Nightmare?”

 

“Video surveillance”, Altair said and pursed his lips. “Don't think Abstergo doesn't have their fingers in there”, he added.

 

“Right”, Malik said in a clipped tone and let his eyes roam over the building ahead of them.

 

“Alright”, Desmond said, pulling him right out of his thoughts and took the headset off, “parked. Now tell me what to do.”

 

Malik felt Altair's gaze on him but didn't look as he fumbled for something in his pocket and pulled it outside. “It's safe to cash it”, Malik said as he handed Desmond the check over. “I suggest going East, we have friends there.”

 

“East?” Desmond rose both his eyebrows while Malik nodded.

 

“Prague”, he specified, pulling out a little piece of paper which looked like the paper of old chewing gum and scrambled a name on it. “He will help you.”

 

Desmond took the paper and read the name out loud. “Alex Krycek.”

 

Malik nodded once more “Cash the check first, go see Alex. He'll know what to do.”

 

“And if I don't?”, Desmond asked.

 

“Then you simply are on your own.” Malik shrugged. “You could see and try for how long you can run away from Abstergo. I would prefer you go see Alex though because it'll maybe gives me and Altair a bit of a chance to get some time.”

 

“What, you don't trust me?” Desmond looked actually hurt and Malik offered him a bitter sweet smile. “Not one bit boy.”

 

xxx

 

She had always liked to look at him. It was a rare opportunity to do so, a luxury gift really so the moments in which she was able to openly look at him were precious to her but most of the times, these moments flew by like a bird, one minute there and with the next second gone. But most of the times, those moments were enough to give her strength she needed to make it through the days – the nights were even worse. She'd always enjoyed how the muscle over his jaw rolled when he was about to say something or how it tensed when he was thinking about something, turning the single letters in his head over before he put them together into words and letting her know his thoughts. She'd always enjoyed hearing his theories, how he saw the world. She'd always known that Altair saw the world through the eyes of an eagle and that made him so much more special. He was the one person she'd trusted with her dreams and he was probably the only person on this world that didn't look at her as if she'd lost her mind when she told him about them. Those dreams had often scared her, terrified her but he'd been there, listening to all of them only to give her his comfort a moment later. 

 

She had always liked to look at him. There was this small victory she always felt when he was smiling because he almost never smiled. She also liked seeing him tremble when she touched him because moving Altair was almost an impossible task. 

 

Today was different though. Today her heart tore when she looked at him, watching him standing at the shore staring across the sea. She was too far gone by now but she was certain he could make out her body on the ship with the white dress she was wearing, a bright contrast against dark horizon. Earth was pulling down clouds today, heavy with rain and there was a storm about to come, she knew it. The shackles were heavy, pulling her down towards the wooden floor of the ship. A moment longer and she was down on her knees, unable to keep herself up any longer. She barely heard the shouts and moving men around her, pulling in the sails when the wind picked up. Hair was pushed in front of her eyes and she watched, helplessly, how he got smaller and smaller until she couldn't see him at all anymore. Life had never felt more desperate. 

 

There was a shadow looming across her, getting bigger the closer the man got to her until she thought she could feel his heat radiating off in waves from his body as he stopped right behind her. Adha looked over her shoulder, a pair of heavy boots filling her sight. 

 

“Well”, said the Captain, his voice just as heavy and booming far too loud in her ears, making her head hurt as if it'd split in two. Something was wrong here, very wrong. “You know all you really have to do is to call out for him.” 

 

The floors were moving underneath her, turning soft and rubbish and Adha shrieked as she lifted her hand, the wood turning liquid and sticking to her. The dark clouds were pushing her down, swallowing her alive as the ship vanished, the shouts of the men getting quieter and quieter until all she could see and feel was the Captain standing in front of her. She'd never seen the man before in her life but the way he looked told her something was wrong. Something in the whole damn picture was wrong. 

 

Her world turned, the Captain's uniform turning into a white coat, the hat he was wearing disappeared and his face grew gentle although Adha thought it was terrifying. She startled when she found she was no longer kneeling but lying in a bed in a room with light so bright it hurt her eyes. The man leaned in closer and her heart pace picked up. “Call for him”, he told her. It sent goosebumps down her spine and heavy knot settled in her stomach, making her feel ill.

 

Adha looked up at him and she was desperate to believe him. “Altair”, she whispered his name and it made the man smile.

 

“Good girl.”

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear hy0rii,
> 
> I don't know if you're still reading this but without your prompt I wouldn't have been able to write this story. It was a long way but today it finally comes to an end - I hope I could fulfill what you were hoping for, at least a little, maybe.
> 
> To my dear readers,
> 
> it's been fun writing this and I'm nervous as hell posting the final chapter of Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again. I want to thank you for all of your great support; your comments and messages are what kept me up at night to finish this motherfucker of a fanfiction. ;)
> 
> Special thanks go to opallight and the-king-of-novices, without your help and support I would have never been able to finish. You guys are great!
> 
> Sorry for the bad English, my brain's sort of mush now...
> 
> So all I really have left to say is:
> 
> Enjoy the ride.

“How do you have all these names?” Altair asked him in a soft murmur once the doors of the subway closed and the train started moving.

 

“I made my contacts Altair”, Malik said and rubbed the side of his nose while holding on to the pole as he tried hard to ignore the smell of pee and beer in the cabin. “As you should have too.”

 

“We've already had this conversation”, Altair muttered in a low voice although he doubted anybody was listening. The people riding the subway with them looked as if they had just crawled out of their beds, still half asleep. “You can't trust _them_.”

 

“That's an arrogant thought to have, and may I remind you that arrogance has already been your downfall once?”

 

“It's not arrogance”, Altair said angry but the stab hurt him more than he would have liked to admit – it hadn't been necessary for Malik to remind him, not when he got reminded of it every single day of his life. 

 

 

“Then its stupidity”, Malik noted without really caring, completely ignoring Altair's sour face.

 

“I was betrayed once by the Order, I won’t make the same mistake twice”, Altair said.

 

“Those were different times,” Malik said and his voice grew softer and to a whisper as he stood closer to Altair, making it impossible for him to see anything but Malik. “Our leader was gone.”

 

“I’ve had to go,” Altair said and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to erase the images taking a hold of his mind – he could almost feel Mongolia’s cold again, could smell the hay and dirt of horses, the rattling of steel meeting steel and the screams of those who were lost. “I know,” Malik nodded, “and I don’t hold it against you but everything that happened was meant to be. There was nothing you could have done against it back then, but you do have a choice right now.”

 

He looked up at Malik, not used to such words and wondering how much he’d really missed in those years he hasn’t been in Masyaf. “We’re in a different time now,” was all he said unable to catch the words whirling in a vortex inside his head and turn them to good use. “All I need is a phone and I get up some connections,” Malik said. “The people I was speaking with are well organized, they’ve helped us in America, and they can help us in Europe too.”

 

“No,” Altair said and it made Malik groan with pure frustration as the doors opened and they got off their train, walking through a crowd of swarming people trying to get in all at once. “Not yet.”

 

“Oh, did you change your mind then?” Malik asked sarcastically as they made their way up the stairs with Altair pulling his hood up. “No,” Malik said with a shook of his head a short moment after. “You’ve got this planned all along, didn’t you? You said so yourself, you’ve figured it all out.”

 

“We’re not meant to be here,” he answered as they emerged from the underground taking the first steps outside of subway stations and tunnels. It was cold that day and there were heavy clouds full of rain lingering on horizon ready to pop any minute now. “Wasn’t it you who said we’re merely ghosts walking among earth?”

 

Altair took a turn left, avoiding to clash with a passing man. “You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want to,” Altair said and somehow, this was probably not a conversation they should have in the middle of a busy street but rather in private but they were running out of time, time being the luxury they both couldn’t afford these days.

 

“I’m stuck with you,” Malik sighed. “Not much I could do against destiny, now could I?”

 

He pressed his lips tightly together, watching Malik from the corner of his eye. “We move tomorrow,” he decided a moment later, then pointed at a hotel ahead of them. “We stay there for the night, we go out tomorrow in the early morning when we’re not disturbed.”

 

xxx

 

It was probably weird knowing tomorrow would be the last day of your life but to Altair, it felt like serenity was about to come. He sat there in this big armchair wearing nothing but a bathing robe, a drink in one hand while his foot was propped up a small table, looking out through the curtains watching people passing the street several stories underneath them. Malik was behind him, sitting on the bed with hair still wet from the earlier shower. “There was no way of avoiding this, wasn’t there?”

 

“No,” Altair said with shaking his head.

 

“We’re here to end what has started centuries ago, I know.”

 

Altair glanced sideways, slightly turning his head watching Malik. “Yes,” he said and the word itself tasted bitter on his tongue, leaving an aftertaste he probably would never get rid of. “You must hate me,” Altair said after a while wearing a thin smile on his lips.

 

“You’ve ruined me centuries ago Altair,” Malik replied with a chuckle.

 

“I’ve ruined you for good this time,” Altair muttered more to himself as he rose his glass and took a small sip of the amber liquid, watching a black minivan parking at the side of the street. He got up in his seat, pulling the curtain just far enough aside so he could catch a quick glance outside only to realize it was a shuttle from the airport delivering more guests to the hotel. False alarm.

 

“I came to realize that long ago.”

 

“And yet you still stay with me.” Altair turned around to watch Malik. “You just can’t let the bad guys win, can you?”

 

“Not like as if it would have been any different,” Malik sighed and sat further up the bed, legs crossed casually over each other. Altair got up, crossing the distance between him and Malik. “Not many people get to know the date they die,” he said as he sat next to Malik. “Have you ever thought about what you want to do if you have only one more day left?”

 

“I wondered about it before I left for war,” Malik admitted after a small moment of silence. “The weeks before I departed, you know? Because I couldn’t have make it back.”

 

Altair listened carefully, there was a side of Malik showing he didn’t get to witness all too often – probably never had before. “You know I think it’s funny how we all just assume we have a life time left to say all the things we feel the need to say but when it’s about to come to an end, you realize a life time is not enough to get all the words out.”

 

“I had no idea you were such a poet,” Malik said and made some more room for Altair to sit on the bed, pushing away the remote – the TV was running, showing the news but it was turned on silent.

 

“You sure know how to ruin a mood Malik.”

 

“I just don’t want to spend the rest of the life I have with depressing words.”

 

“I’ve fucked up a lot of things,” Altair said as if he hadn’t heard him and maybe he really didn’t, his eyes turned onto something that once was with a look at something that never will be.

 

“Is this turning into some confession now? I can get you a priest if you want to – but you’re not catholic are you?” Malik wondered out loud and Altair couldn’t really hold it against him. In a different life, maybe but he was old and tired.

 

“I’m sorry for Solomon’s Temple-“

 

“You already got my forgiveness for that,” Malik cut him off and Altair watched how his fingers were moving in unsteady patterns across the blanket, nervously.

 

“- and I’m sorry I was too late, that I couldn’t…”

 

At that Malik rose his brows, head fully turned towards Altair and he could feel his gaze on him, all heavy and about to crush his soul. “That you couldn’t?” Malik asked.

 

“Abbas,” was all he said and he could tell the exact moment when it hit Malik, a whole flood of memories of a man who’d already died once washing over him.

 

“Oh.”

 

Altair offered a smile, hollow and empty. He still remembered the day as if it’s just yesterday and to some degree that might be even true – he’d spent a lifetime asleep and it had needed a futuristic machine and a maniac of a scientist to wake him up. There was so much time wasted but he couldn’t take any of it back. “Altair,” Malik said and he could see it in his eyes, the pity there and it wasn’t what Altair wanted, what he never wanted and cold burning anger crawled up his throat. “You really try to make up for your sins, don’t you?”

 

“I’ve never been a religious man and you know it,” he said, his voice dripping venom.

 

“No you haven’t but-“

 

“You really need me to beg, don’t you?”

 

“What?” When he saw the confusion on Malik’s face, Altair really believed him for a second, really believed that Malik had, in fact, no clue. Altair moved, slowly, reaching over Malik to grab the remote and stretched even further to place it onto the small bedside table. One leg rose so he could straddle his lap. “You really… want me to beg…,” he said again, both his hands coming down to each side of Malik’s head almost vanishing in the big cushion.

 

“What are you doing?” Malik asked, and yes – yes, he really had no idea and that alone would have probably been enough to break Altair in a whole but not tonight. Not this day. Maybe tomorrow when a new dawn was already wasted.

 

“I’ve wasted a lifetime keeping it all to myself,” Altair muttered, head hanging low between his shoulders as he was not meeting Malik’s gaze. “I came a long way,” he added and took a deep breath before he sat up straight on top of Malik, arms hanging to his sides. “We never got a happy end, did we? And we won’t get one tomorrow either but for once, I want to leave this world with no regrets.”

 

“What are you regretting?”

 

“You,” Altair said and he could tell by the look on Malik’s face this wasn’t the answer he was expecting to hear.

 

“Me? What about me?”

 

“Meeting you,” Altair said.

 

“I know you’ve always been irrational but this probably tops it all.” Malik looked up at him and Altair could almost hear the thoughts turning upside down in his head as he tried to figure Altair out.

 

“My biggest regret is meeting you,” Altair said again leaning down with his face close to Malik, so close his eyes were almost crossing, seeing two pictures of Malik instead of one. “For loving you.”

 

It had gotten so silent in the room Altair could hear the soft buzz of the still running TV, the cars passing the street outside, a door being opened and closed somewhere down the hall. He thought he was about to suffocate from his heart beating high up his throat.

 

“Then why do you love me?”

 

“Because I don’t want to.”

 

That didn’t make sense at all, he could see it in Malik’s face. “Because I make you do things you don’t want to,” he whispered and Altair nodded.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You don’t want to beg,” Malik added and his voice was growing so quiet that the rustle of moving fabric was almost too loud in Altair’s ears to stand it. “But I make you to.”

 

He nodded, his eyes slipping shut and he grabbed a fist full of blanket as his shoulders, his whole body slumped underneath the weight pressing down on him. “You really are just a boy, Altair.” When he looked up, he saw the traces of a smile on Malik’s lips free of pity. He startled when Malik’s hand came up, resting right above his heart and he was certain Malik could feel how fast it was beating. “A broken one indeed.” Which felt like a blow. “You want me to love you, don’t you?”

 

He closed his eyes, his breath filtering through parted lips.

 

Malik was shifting his weight underneath him, a hand meeting his back and slowly moving upwards to his neck, pulling Altair down. It started at the tip of his ear, a soft brush of lips against skin not enough to be a kiss but enough for a gentle touch. “Altair,” Malik sighed and it was so full of regret and unsaid words, forgotten somewhere in their both past. His fingers curling in Altair’s hair, stroking, keeping him in place where Malik wanted him to be – and it wasn’t as if he wanted to move anyway, not when he was able to feel Malik’s heartbeat right underneath him. Malik sighed again and maybe it was more of a deep inhale of Altair’s scent as there was another kiss to his jaw with a dozen tiny ones following until he cupped his face, turning it towards him, kissing him. Altair wanted to protest, didn’t want it like that not today and not tomorrow but Malik only tightened the hold he had of him, taking the air to breath from him as he only deepened the kiss and maybe, this was just enough for Altair to lose himself in it.

 

He started kissing back, desperately, his body slowly waking from its stupor, hands and legs moving as he changed positions. There was a bit of motion when Altair rose just so Malik could take a hold of his hips and he suddenly was underneath him, a bit lightheaded from the sudden rush. It never been like this – Altair couldn’t remember the time it ever been… like _this_. Not with Malik hovering above him, not with Malik kissing down his throat, making him forget about everybody and anything. Not with hands being gentle, carefully moving down his skin as if he was exploring Altair as if trying to memorize all of it, feeling every little depression in his chest, the small scar above his hip from his appendix surgery when he was just eleven years old, the hidden muscles underneath stretching skin.

 

This was different from the many times they’ve spend together and Altair wondered if this was an act, a last present Malik was ready to offer him but- but then again, those hands made him forget his doubts and instead made him relish the moment of peace, a moment full of what could have been if their story has started a different way.

 

xxx

 

 

It was around four in the morning when there was movement behind him, Altair turning his head from where he was sitting watching the empty street underneath their hotel room. There was a cigarette dangling between his fingers, half smoked and an ashtray balanced on his knee. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Malik’s head emerging deep from the pillow, hair tousled and eyes small. “You didn’t sleep?” He asked in a rough voice, throat dry and he sat up a little, rubbing his eye with his palm. “Are you smoking?” He pondered before Altair even got the chance to answer the first question.

 

“Got them from the lobby after you fell asleep,” he murmured and turned his gaze out into the night.

 

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

 

“I used to smoke hookah with you back in Masyaf,” Altair said with a small smile.

 

“That’s different.”

 

“You’re right but we’re in a different time, too.”

 

There was the soft thud of feet meeting the carpet, Malik rising from the bed walking over to him naked. He took the cigarette from Altair’s fingers, took a drag and returned it. He coughed. “Horrible,” he said once he was able to speak again.

 

Altair just shrugged. “We need to go soon.”

 

When he felt Malik’s gaze lingering at the back of his head, he looked up at him. “What is it?” He asked but Malik shook his head, “Nothing.” But the words unspoken between them were too heavy for Altair to believe that.

 

Twenty minutes later, they were out into the dark of a coming morning. It was raining and Altair pulled his hood up as they walked out into the street, the orange glow of the street lights illuminating puddles ahead of them.

 

“How do you expect to find Adha down there?” Malik asked as they rounded a corner, crossing a bridge – they could already see the dome of the Reichstag rising between rooftops.

 

“I’m not but-“ Altair licked his lips. “Vidic told me we're all acting on our ancestral memories, that’s why he built that machine, the Animus – so you can enter those memories and re-live them. I don’t… really believe in that.”

 

“But you’ve been in there. You’ve seen it,” Malik insisted.

 

“Yes I know but it made me think. If we’re acting on our ancestral memories how much of us is really… us? How do we differ from just being a copy then?”

 

“I can’t follow you.”

 

“Look, no matter how good a copy you make, it’ll never be the _same_. It’s still just a copy.”

 

“Then what about clones?”

 

“He didn’t clone us,” Altair said with shaking his head. “He said my DNA is to 100% identical with my ancestor but in my opinion, if the best, it could maybe be around 99.99%.”

 

“Your point is?”

 

“I think we’re finding parts of Adha down there.”

 

“I think you’ve spent too much time inside that Apple.”

 

“Everything’s possible,” Altair said with a bitter smirk and he stopped, holding Malik by the arm. “Over there,” he said and pointed to their left. “That’s the parking lot – no cameras,” he added.

 

It was tricky to find the right sewer and even though Altair once already has been down in the temple, things have changed over the centuries and he needed a moment to sort his memories in order to find the right one. After that, it wasn’t difficult to lift the gully cover and crawl down the sewer. “There are rats down here,” Malik muttered who was following Altair short.

 

“I know,” he said back.

 

“You hate rats.”

 

“I _know_. I think we have to go… this way,” he muttered more to himself than to Malik and started walking left.

 

“These artifacts don’t belong in the hands of men, do they?” Malik’s voice was close to his ear, his breath stroking Altair’s neck.

 

“No,” Altair agreed. “That Apple was cursed and has brought nothing but misery upon us. If they get the Chalice-“

 

“You think it could end the world, don’t you?”

 

“Not end the world,” Altair shook his head. “But the Chalice is by far more powerful than the Apple and you know what it can do. I’d rather not imagine what would happen if Vidic gets to open it.”

 

“Are you sure you know the right way?” Malik asked as he watched the walls around them skeptically.

 

“Give me a moment,” he muttered as he tried to set his mind at ease – he hasn’t done this in a long time, not even sure if it still worked but it was his only option right now. He concentrated, he focused, he felt the tingle at the back of his head – and he failed. “What is it?” Malik asked from behind and Altair heard his footsteps making it through the water, one of the rats squeaking when Malik _accidently_ kicked it. “Got lost novice?”

 

Altair sent him a small glare. “It doesn’t work,” he said with defeat though.

 

“What doesn’t work?”

 

“My vision.”

 

“Your… vision. Oh.” Malik rose his brows then drew them tight together with a frown. “Is it… broken?”

 

“I can’t find it,” Altair said, voice dropping down to a whisper. He made a gesture towards his head, swirling his finger once, “There’s too much going on, I can’t find that one place, I need.“

 

Malik simply grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around and kissed him – straight on the mouth with no detour, pressing tight against him and holding his arms to the point where his knuckles turned white. Altair’s mind went blank, his eyes still open and staring at Malik who had his own closed with a tiny little wrinkle right in the middle of his brow. Before he could respond the kiss, Malik pulled away looking at him with reddening lips. “Come on Grandmaster,” he said. “You’re not getting old are you?” He said it with a smirk, this lopsided smirk which wanted him to take Malik and just… get away from this place, their past their future, just everything. Maybe live somewhere in peace, maybe that old cabin his parents have owned all those years ago, getting a dog, hunting, growing their own food. It’d be so easy to just disappear. Malik squeezed his shoulder, Altair snapping out of his train of thoughts. “Alright,” he nodded, ”alright.”

 

He closed his eyes and he heard the running water to their feet, the soft dripping in the distance, and Malik’s breathing close to his ear. The unbelievable smell of sewer mixed with Malik’s scent ripping open old memories of days where they’ve had to hide between pigs, spending the night in a stable keeping each other’s back – Altair opened his eyes and the world was gray around him. Malik’s whole being was illuminated in a dark glowing blue, the water and walls white and green and when he looked down, Altair saw long forgotten footsteps shining in a bright gold. He followed them with his eyes until he saw them vanish in the distance, turning right.

 

“This way,” he said and Malik looked at him, grinning.

 

“Yes Grandmaster.”

 

xxx

 

They ended following a narrow corridor with a door blocking their way. The walls were wet, torches hanging from them untouched for centuries now. Altair reached for one before he got out his lighter, setting the torch on fire with its flickering light crawling up their faces throwing dancing shadows against the ceiling.

 

“Is that the entrance?” Malik whispered and Altair nodded.

 

“There must be some… hidden handle somewhere,” he muttered as his fingers started to move across the wall, trying to feel for depressions.

 

“Was it there when you’ve been here with your father?”

 

“It was always open,” Altair said and crouched down, his hands brushing away mud and probably some rat shit, too.

 

_“Altair...”_

 

He looked up, watching Malik doing the same. “What is it?”

 

Malik stopped, hands dirty. “What?”

 

“You’ve said my name.”

 

Malik frowned. “No I didn’t.”

 

“Altair…” All of his movements stopped, goose bumps spreading over his skin and his hair standing to end. That voice – he hadn't heard in years, centuries even. “Altair?” It was Malik speaking now, gently placing his hand on his elbow. “Did you find something?”

 

_“Follow your heart Altair.”_

 

He looked at the door once more, Malik still staring at him. His fingers moved over stone, dirt coming off. “There are letters here,” he said. “Try and see if they’re more,” he hurried.

 

Malik nodded and followed Altair, their hands moving across the stone, rubbing, washing ripping dirt and moss off that’s been there for too long now until their nails were bloody. “There are twelve of them,” Malik said. “Is this some… code thing? Do you think you have to enter a password?”

 

“She said to follow my heart.”

 

“Adha,” Malik said and Altair nodded.

 

“So let’s see…” He muttered more to himself and placed his hand on L, pressed it in then moved to U and V. Nothing happened.

 

“Luv…”, Malik said with head cocked to one side. “Heart?”

 

“It’s not the right one,” Altair hummed.

 

“Follow your heart – what could she mean with that? Referring to something you’ve once told her?”

 

Altair pressed his lips tightly together, then moved his hands again, pressing the stones.

 

“N – E – S – H – E – R. Really?” Malik pondered.

 

“I’ve once told her-“ He shook his head. “It’s not important. She knew I was coming Malik,” he said with a look at him. “Let’s hope I was right,” and he pushed the last piece in and for a moment nothing happened before the door slowly opened in front of them. “Welcome home, mh?” Altair said with a crooked eyebrow before entering, Malik following shortly.

 

 

_“Altair. This way.”_

 

She was speaking perfect Arabic. Ancient Arabic with a heavy accent but perfect none the less. He turned around ever so slowly and while the woman standing there wasn't her, he knew she couldn't be anybody else _but_ her. It was just a shadow, nothing more and yet he could see her just right.

 

“I know the way,” Altair told Malik and he followed the voice in his head, his feet moving quickly across gravel and stones.

 

_“Turn left.”_

_“Further ahead.”_

_“Over here, Altair.”_

_“Right, right.”_

_“Faster Altair, faster.”_

At one point he’d started to run, Malik following through a sea of catacombs, taking turn after turn – without Adha, he would have been completely lost.

 

He was out of breath with the torch heavy in his hand when they entered a big room, something that once must have been a temple with high walls and a circle of fires burning in the middle of it. There was water dripping in the distance, the air smelled fresh – it was almost liberating to enter it.  “This is it,” Altair told Malik, “this is how I remember it,” he said as he turned his gaze on Malik.

 

“You’re here”, she said and by the look he saw on Malik’s face, he realized he was able to hear her too this time, his eyes going wide. Altair turned.

 

“Adha.”

 

The name fell from his lips like a memory too heavy for him to carry anymore, the single letters burning all those forgotten images back into his mind, making it impossible for him to ignore everything he'd ever felt for her any longer.

 

“Adha?” Malik looked from between Altair and the woman.

 

“Altair”, she whispered again, her voice soft and broken. “Don't...”

 

“She's one of Vidic's people, they fooled you”, Malik growled and pulled the man back by grabbing his arm harshly, not able to trust his own eyes and forgetting about everything Altair has told him.

 

She tilted her head to one side, hair falling back over bare shoulders. She looked at them with dull eyes, moving as if somebody had put an invisible collar around her neck to hold her on a leash, to hold her in control. “Don't”, she said again. “Don't.”

 

“Let go”, Altair hissed at Malik, shaking his arm free. “Only a fool would not see”, he barked at him and crossed the distance between him and her before he suddenly stopped. One more step. One more step and all he had to do was to reach out for her and be able to touch her after so many years. “Is this a dream?” He whispered, completely forgetting about Malik and the string of curses he let loose behind him. She shook her head, “It's not habiby.”

 

But it couldn’t be – she was not supposed to be here except that yes, she was – he was meant to meet her here, to find her, to touch and keep her but-

 

“It’s so easy, isn’t it?” Vidic’s voice boomed through the empty temple’s hall as he emerged from a low hanging balcony flanked by two of his guards, guns in their hands pointed at them. “One more step and you finally found her, finishing a mission you’ve started centuries ago, no?” His tone was mocking, he was knowing something Altair didn’t and that alone was enough to make his blood boil.

 

“I was looking for a memory,” was all he said as his gaze shifted between her and Vidic and he knew what set the picture wrong.

 

“And here I’ve thought I’d do you a favor – wasn’t it her you were looking for all along?”

 

“How did you find us?” He ignored his question, ignored the guards coming up between them. He had no idea how Vidic had been able to find them but he did and it was eating his mind away, a dozen questions of what has possible gone wrong here, where he’d fucked up. Again.

 

“It’s easy to find somebody if you put a tracking device underneath their skin,” Vidic simply said and it dawned on Altair that very moment.

 

_“What's that?” Malik whispered._

_“What's what?”_

_“It seems as if you have a small port-wine stain or something.”_

_“You probably just scratched me”, Altair sighed._

_“Doesn't look like it.”_

_“Is it that important?”_

_“No I was just wondering, I haven't noticed it before...”_

“You could have come earlier to get me.”

 

“Oh, but I needed you right here, Altair and once I realized you were on the right track all I had to do was to lean back and let you lead the way.”

 

“What do you want from me?” It made all horrible sense and Altair couldn’t believe just how stupid he was for not seeing the trap- it has all went too smoothly hasn’t it? Everything has gone way too easy and still, he hadn’t seen this coming. Vidic frowned as he tilted his head to one side, a gesture that seemed so very untypical for him. “We’ve restored her to 95% - I want you to do the rest of the work.”

 

“And if I don’t?”

 

Vidic shrugged and made a gesture, one of the guards to his side shifting his position and a second later, he saw a red dot moving over Malik’s face. “We don’t really have any need for him.”

 

“Don’t let it fool you, Altair,” Malik hissed but couldn’t take his eyes from Vidic. “We both know how this ends – and he’s right, you don’t need me here anymore.”

 

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?” He was thinking hard and fast but no matter how he turned the thoughts inside his head, he just couldn’t find the right answer. “Why are you here?” This time, he asked Adha. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes doll her face without any emotions – nothing like he remembered her.

 

“We’re here to end it Altair.”

 

“And how do we do that?”

 

“You take the Key,” she said and made a gesture with her hand, light following her movement creeping across the dusty floor until it stopped over something, a depression hidden inside the floor surrounded by the burning fires. “You lock _it_.”

 

“It?”

 

Adha nodded, “It’ll save the world from what once have happened to Those Who Came Before.”

 

“No!” It was a surprise that the yell came from Vidic. “That is not what’s supposed to happen Lucy.”

 

But Lucy was dead, gone wasn’t she? Just a memory that slowly faded in the distant. Altair smirked as he looked up. “Not as you planned it to be, mh? I think it didn’t work Vidic. Whatever you’ve done to her, it didn’t work. You can’t break the Chalice,” he smiled. Adha was still faithful to him, no matter what Vidic might have done to her. She was still his, his Challice – the one who was meant to end it all. Altair took one step forwards but this time he wasn’t stopped by Vidic but by a hand resting heavy on his shoulder.

 

“Altair, we don’t-“ Malik started but Altair shook him off, taking another step as he watched Vidic closely.

 

“We have a problem here,” he told the scientist, “you need me and her both alive but if you kill Malik,” he started as he finally reached the spot illuminated by Adha’s light before she vanished right from where she was standing only to disappear a second later right next to Altair’s side. What a smart girl. “I can just as well kill her and me,” he finished and he wrapped one arm around Adha, a hidden knife coming to live as he pressed it tightly against her throat.

 

But it didn’t have the effect Altair was hoping for. As soon as he touched her he felt burnt, as if fire was eating its way through his body crawling up his veins and to his heart, blinding him from the inside. It was what true power felt like and he’d never felt so small in his entire life before than in that moment and yet, he wasn’t able to let go of her.

 

The world turned gray once more, the temple vanishing in front of his eyes, walls falling down only to be rebuild again within the blink of an eye. Those new walls who came up seemed familiar, a room building with torches flickering, shelves filled with books and an armchair standing in the middle of it all. This was Masyaf, he realized. This was where he died over nine-hundred years ago. Dust was covering the floor and whirled in a tiny cloud when he took a step forwards. The chair was turned with its back towards him and Altair moved, carefully, slowly walking around only to be met by a ghost.

 

He stumbled, almost falling over his own feet as a cold fist grabbed his heart, and squeezing it so tight together he thought it might burst every second now. He was looking at himself or at least what was left of him. A skeleton wearing torn robes, dust covering the bones, spiders crawling across the ribcage. The Apple still in his hand. It was scary, it scared him but that was only understandable when you were met by your own corpse, your own death – your own mortality. Altair gasped and after the first wave of shock was passing him, he took another step forwards.

 

“Altair.” He looked up, Adha standing there. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” It wasn’t Lucy’s body he was looking at. This was Adha and how he remembered her from the last day seeing her in an old life. She took steps forwards but there were no prints left in the dust, the air wasn’t moving around her. She picked up the Apple without ever really touching it, holding it in front of Altair’s face. “Will you do this for me?”

 

Altair swallowed, “How?”

 

“The Key,” Adha whispered inside his head. “Lock it with the Key.”

 

“And then what?”

 

“It’s a prison Altair. For me.”

 

“Will it help us?” He asked and watched how Adha’s eyes turned empty, staring off into oblivion.

 

“Yes. Otherwise,” Adha whispered, “It’ll set me free,” she said, her voice scratching the inside of his head. “Love – we end this. Together.”

 

“Altair,” and this time it was Malik calling him, his voice coming through a thick fog. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. Something’s wrong. Something is not right here.”

 

“My Love,” Adha whispered and while he was able to see her face, her lips didn’t move. “Close the Chalice. For good.” He felt how his head was turned, his eye setting onto the ground. It was made of glass or at least it looked like it and underneath the glass he saw the Temple from above, Malik shouting something at Vidic, hectic moving, chaos breaking loose. Adha’s light was still shinning bright, pointing at that spot in the floor. He didn’t understand, he- His knees were weak and something pushed against him and when he looked up, Adha was holding the Apple in front of him. He held out his hand, the long forgotten Artifact falling into his open palm. “You’ve followed me so many years ago,” Adha whispered into his ear. “But today, it comes to an end. Our journey is finished.”

 

He was no longer connected to Adha but he also wasn’t able to look up. There was a shout behind him, a voice which sounded like Malik mixed with several others but he couldn’t make out the words as the world slowly turned upside down around him, the only light which was there was Adha. Adha and nobody else, slowly cutting him off from the rest of the world. “Destroy me, Altair”, she said and he felt her fingers around his own, a light shining from between them and the Apple grew hot in his hand.

 

He looked up again, her eyes in front of his face and so close he could see his own reflection in them. “Altair,” she said again with a smile on her lips and her mouth not moving. “You know what’s right. Follow your heart.”

 

_“Altair!”_

 

His head snapped up. “Malik,” he said and he watched Adha, her skin glowing as if she was burning from the inside.

 

“It’s time”, she said, his vision blurring and the Apple pulling him down towards the floor, too heavy to hold it any longer. “It’s time.”

 

The glass floor cracked underneath his weight.

 

xxx

 

“Altair?”

 

There was ringing in his ear and he could barely make out the voice talking to him. “Altair?” A slap to his face and a moment later Altair opened his eyes, starring up at Malik who was looking at him with panic in his eyes, sweat covering his face and his hair sticking to his head. When he noticed Altair looking at him, he smiled. “For a moment I’ve thought I lost you,” he smirked before he grabbed Altair by one arm to bring him into a sitting position.

 

“What- what happened?”

 

“I don’t know,” Malik shook his head. “But Vidic is pissed. One moment you both were there, the next you and Adha just… vanished.”

 

“Vanished?”

 

Malik nodded and there were hurried shouts in the distance, Malik pressing himself against a wall and holding a finger against his lips to gesture Altair to keep silent. They where somewhere in the catacombs. “They started shooting first, you’ve… got hit when you appeared again.”

 

“Adha?” Altair asked as if he hadn’t really heard what Malik has said. He’s been shot? He couldn’t feel the pain.

 

“She’s gone,” he shook his head. “No idea. I have no idea how I got us out of there but we need to go, now.”

 

“No, the Chalice-“

 

“She’s gone Altair! Whatever it was you and Vidic have been looking for, it’s not here.”

 

Altair tried to sit up, coughing and he could taste blood in his mouth. There was something pressing against his leg and he reached for it- “Fuck,” he hissed as pain shot through his arm – now he felt it. “What is it?” Malik asked. “You shouldn’t move that arm.”

 

Altair glared up at him, coughing again. “Smartass,” he muttered before he reached into his pocket with his good arm.

 

“What’s that?” Malik asked, eyes wide.

 

Altair looked at it. “It’s… the Apple.”

 

“How…?”

 

Altair nodded softly, “Adha, she- she gave it to me,” he said and held his side with one hand and as he pulled his fingers away, he saw blood on them. “It’s bad isn’t it?” He looked up at Malik who only nodded with a frown on his face. “We need to hurry,” he simply said.

 

“She said it’s locking something,” Malik added. “Did she tell you something? What does it lock?”

 

Altair looked up at him. “Her soul”, he said with disbelieve as if he only understood now and truth was, he really did. “She wants to lock herself away so Vidic can’t use her.”

 

“Use her for what?”

 

“I don’t know,” Altair hissed and held his side once more, his limbs slowly growing cold. “Vidic said they’ve restored her…” He shook his head, spitting out some blood. “Do you remember what I’ve told you about copies?”

 

Malik nodded.

 

“I don’t know how she did it but… she locked the last bit of herself away. If Vidic gets to it and set her free…” He shook his head. “She did this Malik. We have to do this.”

 

“Do you know where it is?”

 

Altair thought for a moment, he had no idea, he- He narrowed his eyes, staring into empty space before he lifted his gaze up to Malik. “We need to go back.”

 

“The great hall?” Malik asked as if Altair had just lost his mind. “They’re searching for us, we need to get out- you’re hurt!”

 

“It’s there. I saw it when I was with her.” He pressed his lips together as he tried to breathe through the pain. “It’s her Heart. It’s there.”

 

“There's no way out of this”, Malik muttered and Altair coughed, blood spilling down his chin.

 

“No there isn't”, he agreed and leaned heavily on Malik. “It's- it's no use Malik. We both know how this has to end.”

 

“Do I?” Malik said surprisingly softly, his gaze lingering on Altair as he watched him from the corner of his eye. He coughed again and Malik intuitively pulled him closer while rubbing his hand soothingly over Altair's back as if it could help him, which could not and they both knew it. “So this is it then?”

 

“It looks like it...”

 

Altair turned his gaze back up at Malik, the wound making it look like as if his face was painted with blood, chest heaving underneath deep unstable breaths. He held his arm in a tight grip, teeth gritted and his eyes were unfocused, nearly empty and Malik could watch how the light which made them appear golden was slowly fading.

 

“This can't be the end of it”, Malik told him though he knew better but he wasn't ready to accept the facts. He'd never been good with that not even back at Masyaf. He jumped forwards when Altair slumped towards the ground, hitting the gravel with his knees as Malik was too slow to catch him.

 

“Why don't you just accept the truth?” Altair whispered, the grip on his arm easing as his hands softly fell into his lap.

 

“But nothing is true.”

 

“And everything is permitted”, Altair murmured, revealing bloodied teeth as tired eyes found Malik's gaze. “I need to rest”, he added just as an afterthought. “I'm tired.”

 

“You can't sleep yet”, Malik grabbed his chin, forcing Altair to look up at him. His fingers dug painfully into the man's skin, his nails leaving crescent prints behind.

 

“There's no way out of this.”

 

Malik looked at him with disbelieve and then, because he didn't know what else to do as sorrow washed across his body like an angry storm he slapped Altair. “What the hell are you talking about  _novice_!” He snarled at him though Altair didn't seem to hear him, looking over Malik's shoulder into empty space. Then, ever so slowly, he looked back up at him. “It's time to go home”, he whispered and he slumped a little further into himself as if his spine had turned into goo and Malik wrapped his arms around Altair's torso, pulling him up against his body with his lips close to his ear.

 

“Just a little longer”, he told him, the anger gone from his voice, vanished. His shirt became sticky and he felt Altair's blood oozing through torn fabric. “We go home, but together.”

 

“Together... yes”, Altair murmured and it got too difficult for him to hold his head up any longer, his brow meeting Malik's shoulder.

 

Malik heard another shot, head snapping into the direction where it came from. “Get on your feet”, he ordered Altair in a soft hiss. “I can't carry you.” He turned back around and watched the high walls surrounding them, trying to find anything that could help them maybe... His gaze returned to Altair's wounded arm.

 

“I can see it Malik.”

 

“What?”

 

“The Chalice.”

 

“What? Where?” Malik looked further up but all he saw was dark stones.

 

“It’s right here”, Altair murmured and his voice sounded sleepy as if he wasn't really talking to Malik but himself.

 

Malik pushed the man a little from his body, Altair's head rolling back and he saw he had his eyes closed. “Altair”, he said his name, the letters rolling softly from his tongue and fading into a thin whisper. He pressed his lips tightly together as no reply came, his hand reaching for Altair's face and smearing some blood over his cheek as he cupped them. “We're going home Altair”, he told him in a soft whisper although he knew all too well there wasn't a home they could return to. “I promise.”

 

He grabbed Altair underneath one arm, going back the way they've come. Altair breathed heavily into his ear, Malik could hear the gurgling of blood in his lungs and knew just then, that Altair would probably die from drowning in his own blood. There was no way of getting help, _nobody_ would help them. For Vidic they were just two puppets, two damned souls he'd found at the bottom of humanity and got to play with but now was bored after he got what he'd wanted – almost. “Altair?” Malik stopped when there came no answer and he sat Altair down, legs stretched and back supported by the nearest wall. “Altair...” He asked again, crouching down in front of him and brushing some blood soaked hair out of his face. Altair's breath was uneven and heavy by now, to Malik it seemed as if minutes passed between each breath, then Altair would suck in a deep gulp of air only to release one or two shallow ones a few seconds after. Malik knew what that meant. He'd watched it -sadly- numerous times when he was still active. Only people dying breathed like that. “Fuck it”, he growled and sat down next to Altair, pulling him into a hug so his head could rest against his shoulder. “Where is it?” He asked, still hoping to get an answer, that maybe Altair wasn't that far gone yet. “Where is it...”, but while he was asking his hand already reached into one of Altair's pockets.

 

“Left... left one”, Altair muttered and the sweat covering him like a thin sheet was cold, his skin held the color of an unhealthy gray. Malik reached around Altair, his hand slipping into the pocket and he took out the Artifact. “It's going to work, isn't it?”, he asked and looked down at Altair but his eyes were closed and right now Malik didn't know any more if Altair was with him or not. He reached for his wrist, looking for his pulse and while he could feel it, it was flat and weak.

 

Altair didn't answer and Malik realized he was unconscious but he kept on holding him, kept holding onto his wrist and didn't pull away, not even when he hadn't felt Altair's pulse in a while now. There were shouts in the distance but Malik wasn't worried of them finding them within the next minutes. The catacombs were too big and while they were near, it didn't mean they'd be found soon. Malik turned and shifted his weight so Altair's body was leaning against him, the dead weight by far heavier now. “It's the other way around this time, isn't it?” Malik whispered into empty space. “It's you who's gone first, not me.” He reached up to press the bridge of his nose tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt tears rising. “I think”, he choked, “I think I understand now.” How much it hurt to be left behind and he could only assume what Altair had been going through back then after not only Maria but also Malik were gone. “You fucking idiot”, he grunted and buried his face in the crook of Altair's neck and shoulder, not caring for the blood there. He was selfish, Malik knew that, selfish for being angry at Altair for leaving him like this, for bringing all this pain upon him – it made his heart shatter into a thousand pieces, as if a big pit had opened up underneath him and swallowed him alive. “I hate you”, he whispered into Altair's ear and yet, if Altair would have still been able to hear Malik, they both knew it was the opposite, always had been and right now, Malik regret nothing more than that he didn't has taken on his second chance, that he'd still pushed Altair away in this life, in this modern era – an era in which they would have gotten the chance to be together because no one gives a shit of two men loving each other – and even now, life wasn't fair and he wouldn't have the time to grieve.

 

He looked at Altair. He looked nothing like sleeping and Malik wondered where people got the idea from that a dead person looked like sleeping. They didn't look like sleeping, all their muscles were soft and their skin looked like wax, the healthy color of it fading quickly. Altair was dead and there was no way of denying it.

 

He forced himself to move his legs first, then his arms. It's always been like this, ever since he'd entered the Order. You push through things like that and then, when the mission's finished, when you've done your job – then you got the time to think about everything you've done, the lives you've taken and the Brothers you've lost. So in the end, Malik did what he'd been trained to do, pushed himself through his stupor and pulled Altair up and threw him over his shoulder. “It's not done yet novice”, he muttered and walked all the way back into the temple’s hall, bringing Altair and himself in the middle of it. The walls were just as empty and naked as they'd been before but now they seemed so close as if they would crush Malik any minute. He hadn't realized before how alone somebody could feel down here, several hundred meters underneath earth with just the light of burning fire and nothing more.

 

He held up the Apple he'd gotten from Altair and looked at it in the flickering light. Who would have thought that such a small thing could bring so much misery upon them? His eyes found Altair lying to his feet and Malik crouched down, placing his hand on Altair's shoulder, then rolled him gently on his back. He crossed Altair's arms on his chest so at least he looked a little peaceful. “I know my friend”, he said in a soft voice, “I know what you've meant before. There's no way out of this, I know”, he whispered. He just wished they would have been able to go this way together. He looked around the floor, he’d seen Altair looking at something before, something that’s been invisible to him and Vidic.

 

But there was nothing. Dirty stone and gravel covering the ground to his feet and nothing more. “Altair,” Malik whispered. “Where is it…”

 

He got down on his knees, his fingers searching for something he didn’t know what it was. When he got to the middle of the room, he felt something. It was small, something that could be easily overlooked but there it was. Malik moved towards the small depression in the floor.. His fingers brushed over the small teeth, feeling the mechanism hidden there.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Malik looked up at the voice, two petite feet appearing in his sight and he followed the legs upwards until he met Lucy's -no, Adha's- face.  

 

“I'm ending this”, Malik told her through gritted teeth.

 

“You will die with him”, she said clearly confused, not understanding why a human would do such a foolish thing – not when there was no need for Malik giving his life. “It’s not your fight.”

 

Malik looked at her with determined eyes. “I've died over nine hundred years ago.” He pushed the Apple into the floor. “I’m going to seal this for good.”

 

Adha frowned. “It’s not a seal.”

 

“Fuck you”, Malik hissed and he turned the Apple, gear wheels set into motion and he watched how the Apple was swallowed by the temple.

 

For a moment it was completely still, nothing happened but then a bright light started to emerge right from the Apple, engulfing everything around them. He crawled back to Altair's body, lying down next to him and holding him in a tight grip, his head resting on Altair's shoulder.

 

“Safety and piece brother”, he whispered and it was the last he said before the world came tumbling down around them and just like that, with no light and no movie of his past life playing in front of his eyes, it was over.

 

 

xxx

 

_November 25, 2012_

“Authorities don't know yet how it could have come to such a tragedy but eyewitness assume it has something to do with a nearby construction side to why the Reichstag collapsed this night. There are thirteen confirmed death and over two dozen injured. It is generally believed that the construction of a new subway line of the Berlin Stadbahn system played a part in it. It isn't the first building to collapse due to underground works, the Cologne History Archive collapsed as well in 2009 because of construction of a new subway line. Back then, workers noticed water was flooding into the building pit and rapidly warned staff and visitors of the archive. The building got evacuated but the shortly occurring underground landslide into the subway tunnel caused two adjacent apartment buildings to collapse too, killing two residents. This was Kathy O'Neil at the scene of tragedy in Berlin, Germany. Good night.”

 

 

_November 26, 2013_

“The phenomenon occurring in Germany is described as the 8th world wonder by some people and scientists from all over the country are rushing now to Berlin. Experts from the Middle East, India, China and the US are expected here as well within the next few days but for now, there’s no answer for what is happening here. What’s for sure is that this date will go into history that changed the world forever. The stars as we know them no longer exists and some even say that it’s a black hole appearing right here, on earth. It’s not something happening over Germany alone, France, Italy, Spain – all of Europe is reporting the same, the stars are gone. After registering a high amount of radioactivity radiating from where until yesterday the Reichstag stood, search teams have not been able to enter the epicenter of the detonation yet. So far it looks like tonight is going to be a long night and a dark night since the stars we used to watch and admire down from earth are no longer shining for us. May god help us all. This was Kathy O’Neil from Berlin, Germany. Good night.”

 

xxx

_January 5, 2018_

“He’s waking? What do you mean he’s waking?”

 

“From what we know checking his last data, he could already be awake,” he said as they made their way through the narrow corridors, passing people on their way heading towards the high security district. “He’s _awake_?” She almost couldn’t believe what he’d just told her. “Wasn’t it you who told me he’s nothing more than a vegetable kept alive by support?”

 

“I guess we were wrong,” he muttered as his glasses rode low his nose while he was quickly checking through a sheet of papers, studying the last numbers he’d gotten.

 

“Does he know?”

 

“Not yet,” he shook his head. “If he’s awake I think we should run some tests first, then tell him.”

 

“So you don’t want to get his hopes up, is that it?”

 

He looked at her with one arched eyebrow as they stopped in front of a door while she was busy hammering a combination into the padlock there. It seemed as if the door couldn’t open fast enough for her.

 

“I don’t want him to go on a bloody rampage if we’re wrong about this Rebecca.”

 

“This is everything we’ve waited for within the last five years Shaun,” she said as the door opened and they were entering a room with people running around hectically, looking at screens, writing down numbers, checking their instruments. She turned her gaze onto one of the nearest men, “You”, she said and pointed to the ground next to her feet. “Give me his status.”

 

The man looked up from his work, looked around and as if defeated, walked the distance up to her, “He’s awake,” he said and looked between Rebecca and Shaun.

 

“You don’t look too happy,” she muttered with a frown “Something we should know before going in there?” She gestured towards a single door leading to a medical unit.

 

“Well, all his vital signs are fine except for, well, his vision.”

 

“What’s with his vision?” This time it was Shaun who spoke.

 

“He’s blind,” the man said and hugged his sheet of paper to his chest, sucking a breath in as if he expected to get blamed for this.

 

“Blind?” Rebecca and Shaun asked at the same time.

 

“Blind,” he nodded. “Other than that he’s… fine. Once we did the medical check, we need to send a psychiatrist in there. He’s not very talkative at the moment though.”

 

“Well that’ll change once _he_ gets here,” Rebecca said with a knowing look at Shaun. “Can we go inside?”

 

The man nodded. “Yes, we gave him a small sedative just in case – we don’t know if shock’s about to set in. Nothing big, just something to keep him calm,” he added quickly as he noticed Rebecca’s sour look.

 

“Alright,” she said and gestured Shaun to follow her, stepping in front of the door. “Are you ready for this?” She rubbed her wet palms against her pants.

 

“Ready as I could get,” Shaun muttered with his lips pressed to a thin line, probably just as nervous as Rebecca felt about this. Five years. Five fucking long years in which their future had been unknown, living with the constant fear tomorrow could be there last day. This was their first day of hope – better not fuck it up.

 

“Good.” She pressed a button, the door sliding open in front of them and when they stepped in, Rebecca forced a smile to her face as her gaze turned towards the figure lying in bed.

 

“Good morning,” she said, “how was your sleep Altair?”

 

**Fin**

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr, come talk to me at the-eagle-of-masyaf.tumblr.com :-)


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